Angel helping me? Or nutty coincidence?

I'm someone who loses things easily. Every few days I go looking for my wallet, my keys, the remote because it got misplaced at some point. It's very annoying, but whatever, it's something I've gotten used to. Maybe I'll change someday, but perhaps I'm just facing the fact that I'm a flawed individual.

Crazy thought, isn't it?

However, a story about Angels appeared on my television set a few moments ago, which got me thinking about an incident that happened a few years ago. Was it an angel or saint helping me out? Was it just coincidence? Or was it just my own forgetfulness?

I was moving to Arkansas from Pittsburgh in April 2007. I stopped outside of Louisville for the night, ordered some pizza (Pizza Hut thin crust pizza always tastes best inside a hotel room), and fell asleep. I woke up the next morning, packed my bags, and got ready to hit the road.

One problem though: my car keys were nowhere to be found. I went back into my room, wallet in hand, and looked all over the place. Nothing. Searched my bags. Not there. Looked all over the parking lot. No keys to be found. My car was locked, and there wasn't anything I could do about it.

I had a spare key in the trunk that I knew I would have to rely on. Except for the actual act of losing the keys, there wasn't a huge loss. The car key could be easily duplicated, and since I was moving, there were no house keys that got lost. And since my wallet was with me, there was no sensitive ID information hanging on my keys.

A locksmith came to my car, popped the trunk, and I started a 600-mile drive, irked that I had to spend $30 of my hard-earned cash on something so stupid. Who loses their keys like that? Just then though, I felt something in my pocket. Something I hadn't felt before.

It was my keys. In my pocket the whole time. My family mocks me for it, but I have maintained over the years that the keys were not in my pocket. I can still vividly remember digging out my pockets and not seeing anything. Of course, nobody believes me, but am I that crazy?

I've wondered for four years now, could it be that if I had left 45 minutes earlier, I somehow could have been involved in a traffic accident, and losing my keys like this was a way to avoid physical harm? I'm not sure how theologically accurate I am with this line of thinking, but God has protected people in crazier ways.

Maybe I'm not so crazy after all. Maybe I had heavenly help all along.

Either that, or I'm just really great at misplacing things.