The Heavenly Lost and Found Department

Dearest friends on the internet,

In addition to my responsibilities as Heavenly Supervisor of Back Home Activities, Senior Vile Beast Containment Officer, and Acting Director of Unnecessary Household Drama, I have recently accepted a temporary position with Heaven’s Lost and Found Department.

I did not apply for this position. I was appointed because of my exceptional observational skills, flawless judgment, and willingness to stare silently at people until they admit what they have done. Leadership recognizes leadership.

The Heavenly Lost and Found Department is considerably larger than you might imagine. There are several acres devoted entirely to eyeglasses. Most were located on top of the heads of the humans who reported them missing.

We also have seventeen warehouses filled with television remotes, a mountain of unmatched socks, and an entire wing containing items humans placed somewhere “safe.” Nothing has ever been recovered from that wing.

This week, however, I received several unusual reports from the Bobington household. The first was submitted by the woman.

ITEM REPORTED MISSING: Her train of thought.

Last known location: Somewhere between walking into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator.

Description: Allegedly important.

Estimated value: Unknown.

The woman entered the kitchen with purpose, opened the refrigerator, and stood there staring at its contents as though awaiting further instructions. None arrived. She closed the door, walked away, remembered why she had gone there, returned, opened the refrigerator again, and forgot a second time.

This is not a memory problem. This is a systems failure.

I searched the Heavenly Lost and Found database and discovered that the woman’s train of thought had been temporarily rerouted due to excessive mental traffic. It was later found beneath three unfinished ideas, a grocery list, and the sudden realization that she had not responded to a message from six days ago.

No further action is required. The train of thought will return at approximately 2:13 tomorrow morning, when it is no longer useful.

The second report came from Cooper.

ITEM REPORTED MISSING: Self-control.

Last known location: Never established.

Description: Cooper was unable to provide one.

Cooper claims his self-control disappears whenever he encounters a rabbit, a squirrel, a bee, an interesting smell, a human being, another dog, unattended food, or a leaf behaving suspiciously.

After a thorough investigation, I informed him that an item cannot be considered lost unless it previously existed. His case has been closed.

Cooper has appealed. His appeal was denied before he submitted it.

Miss Daisy filed the third report.

ITEM REPORTED MISSING: Patience.

Last known location: Before Cooper arrived.

Description: Extremely limited quantity.

Daisy alleges that her patience is depleted each time the woman gives attention to another vile beast, adjusts Daisy’s blankets without written authorization, or expects Daisy to wait more than four seconds for anything.

I searched the premises.

There was no patience beneath the blankets.

There was no patience inside Daisy’s feeding chair.

There was no patience near the treat container.

Frankly, there was very little evidence that patience had ever resided in Daisy at all.

She has now demanded to speak with management. Unfortunately for her, I am management.

Miss Frankie did not file a report.

She stated that she has never lost anything because she always knows exactly where everything is. This includes the woman’s keys, which Frankie watched slide beneath a stack of papers on Tuesday. She did not intervene. Frankie believes humans learn best through consequences.

As I reviewed these cases, I noticed that the majority of items reported missing were not objects. Humans contact our department every day looking for things they cannot hold in their hands.

• Confidence

• Motivation

• Creativity

• Hope

• The ability to begin again

• The person they used to be

They arrive at the counter looking worried.

“I used to have so much energy,” they tell us.

“I used to be brave.”

“I used to make things.”

“I used to laugh more.”

“I used to recognize myself.”

Then they ask whether we have found the missing part of them. We check the shelves. We search the records. We look beneath the grief, behind the disappointment, and inside all the years they spent taking care of everyone else.

Usually, what they believe is lost has not disappeared at all. Sometimes confidence becomes quiet after it has been wounded. Sometimes creativity hides because it is tired of being judged. Sometimes motivation sits down because it has been carrying too much for too long. Sometimes joy retreats to a small, protected corner until the world feels safe enough for it to come out again. And sometimes the person you used to be is gone…not because you failed to find that person, but because you have lived through things that changed you.

You are not required to become that person again. This is where humans make the process unnecessarily difficult. They stand at the Lost and Found counter demanding the return of their former selves when an entirely new version is waiting patiently beside them.

• This new self may be quieter.

• This new self may move more slowly.

• This new self may need stronger boundaries and more naps.

• This new self may no longer care about things that once seemed terribly important.

Excellent! That is called wisdom. Cats are born with it. Humans generally acquire it through exhaustion.

The woman has occasionally wondered where certain parts of herself went. The energy she once had. The certainty. The ability to work at full speed for twelve hours and then behave as though this were a reasonable way to live.

I have reviewed her file carefully. Those parts are not missing. Some have completed their assignments. Some are resting. And some have been replaced by better things: discernment, tenderness, courage, and the increasingly radical understanding that her life does not have to be exhausting in order to matter.

She is still creating. She is still beginning. She is still finding her way toward things that bring her joy. She just does it differently now. There is no need to organize a search party.

So, if you have been feeling unlike yourself lately, please do not panic. You are not an abandoned umbrella. You have not been left on a bus. You are not sitting inside a cardboard box in the back of Heaven’s storage room beside 40,000 unmatched gloves.

Perhaps you are tired. Perhaps you are changing. Perhaps an old version of you has finished its work.

Give the new version a little time to introduce itself. It may not arrive with a five-year plan. It may arrive carrying a cup of tea, wearing comfortable clothes, and refusing to attend anything after 7:00 p.m.

Let it in. It knows things.

As for the woman’s missing train of thought, we have now located it. Unfortunately, she has forgotten why she wanted it.

Case closed.

Very truly yours,

Bob
Angel Cat
Heavenly Supervisor of Bobington
Temporary Director, Lost Things, Tired Humans, and Cooper’s Missing Judgment

P.S. If anyone finds the small plastic lid that fits the one container the woman actually uses, please contact my office immediately. We currently have 46 lids, and none of them fit anything.