The Lost Keys

After losing her keys, Merridith Frediani learns an important lesson about surrender.

I don’t lose things. This is a fact. I get unreasonably upset when I do, so I just don’t. I’m a place for everything and everything in its place person.   

Then one day I lost my keys.  

I’d done one of my favorite spring activities. I drove my truck out to Minors and filled it with flowers. It was step two of my three step spring process. Step one: Craft a vision. Step two: Procure the goods. Step three: Plant. I’m always amazed at the beauty of God’s flowers. No human can create anything as wondrous. From a tiny seed or ugly tuber comes beauty that feeds the bees and nourishes our souls.    

I drove home filled with excitement and I got into the house, so I knew the keys were somewhere. The weekend continued and Monday morning as I was leaving for work, I realized I couldn’t find my keys. I didn’t have time to embark on a big search so I grabbed the spare one and set off. We’d put up a lock box with our house key when our kids were younger, so I knew I could get back in.   

After work I launched a search checking clothes pockets and the laundry pile. I checked drawers, counters, my car, my daughter’s car. There was evening and there was morning and still no keys. I tossed up an intercessory prayer request to St. Anthony. He was silent on the matter.  

Only Keys, After All 

I tried not to feel bad. They were keys, after all. Really, the whole set had just two useful keys. The rest of the collection included a Brew City Catholic bottle opener (because every good Wisconsinite needs one), a medical id tag, several Tiny Saints (including one of JPII with sunglasses and skis), and a Virgin of Guadalupe medal — all of which were replaceable. The one sentimental item was a skeleton key for the front door of our first house. I practiced detachment from material goods but continued to search, even going through a very stinky bag of garbage. But I didn’t worry.  

That is, until after several polite requests from my husband to call the Toyota dealer to inquire about a replacement. We couldn’t go on indefinitely with only one key to the vehicle. When I told the service technician the year my car was made, he paused.   

“That’s old,” he said. When I told him the plastic top was grey, signaling it was a valet key, he paused again.   

“$450,” he told me. It was my turn to pause.  

“I don’t need the fob, just the key,” I said.   

“$450 for just the key.”  

“I’ll call you back.”  

My husband was not surprised. Now I was on the verge of unreasonableness. How could it be that I, who never lose anything, lost my keys? They weren’t merely misplaced. They were lost. I’d checked the driveway, the yard, the dirt in the flower beds, underneath car seats.   

The next morning, I surrendered. I told God that I couldn’t find them on my own and I really wanted them. I didn’t want to spend $450 for a key. I wanted my Tiny Saints and skeleton key back. I told Him I was only going to get them back if He got them back for me, because I just couldn’t do it. I admitted defeat. Only God could fix this — and I knew it.   

Later I was planting the rest of the flowers and clearing up the winter’s yard detritus. There was a small pile of leaves and branches I’d raked up and moved to the corner of the yard. When I went to throw it out, there sparkling in the pile were my keys, wet and dirty from the rain but okay. I ran to tell my husband, my hands shaking from excitement. I knew, knew this was of God.  

A Reminder to Surrender 

I’ve been thanking him for the past few days not only for the return of my keys but for the reminder to surrender to Him. Our loving Father wants to help us. I try to put this into practice but I’m realizing that what I thought was letting him take control wasn’t. I kept some for myself.   

Losing my keys was a small thing. My now-rusty skeleton key is a reminder that God really does have it, and I can trust Him in both the small and big things. I’ve got other worries on my heart right now. the things a mother worries about, and like finding my keys, I can’t do it. I can’t affect the future. In these things I have to really and truly let God’s will be done and trust Him in His wisdom. If I can’t even find my keys, what makes me think I know what’s best for my adult children? It’s laughable, our vanity.   

So I continue to pray that He will guide them to where He wants them to be, that I will trust that he has it under control, and that it will all be OK.  

Pray with me: 

Lord, admitting I can’t do it is hard. Please give me the grace to trust you in all things.  

Where do you need to truly surrender to Jesus?

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Copyright 2025 Merridith Frediani
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