The Missing Lego

“Hey, Nia.” My little brother Alejandro nudged me. “Wanna see my Lego wrench?”

We were at church, and the deacons were still picking up offerings. I didn’t really have anything else to do, so I thought why not?

“Sure.” I said. He fished around in his seemingly bottomless pants’ pocket and pulled out a handful of Legos, including a plate, some mini figures, and—sure enough—a Lego wrench.

Well, it was interesting to look at for a little bit, as Lego wrenches aren’t exceedingly common, but pretty soon the impenetrable boredom that seemed to be constantly hanging around thirteen-year-old me returned. After a little while, Alejandro and my little sister Natalia went off to children’s story, leaving me alone with the Legos. I had recently stopped going to children’s story, because if I did then I would be the oldest one by far.

Hey, you know what would be fun? I thought. If I arranged the Lego minif igures in poses. It wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had, but I was still bored so I went along with it. Besides, setting things in poses is fun. At least, I thought it was. So I began arranging the Legos around the plate, and it was actually coming out pretty well, if I do say so myself. I only had to put the Lego wrench in one of the mini figure’s hands and I would be done. But as I went to click the wrench in, my finger slipped and I dropped it onto the carpet of the church.

Aw, man I thought, cursing my disobedient fingers. You had one job… I quickly surveyed the floor to find the wrench. Then I surveyed it again. And again. Oh no, oh no, this can’t be happening! I thought as I surveyed the floor again. But it was happening. No matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find the Lego wrench anywhere. Apparently, its black color blended perfectly with the church carpet. Aghhhhh! I screamed in my head. Why is this happening?! Children’s story was about to end, and I still didn’t see the wrench anywhere. It wasn’t even my Lego! If it had been my Lego, it wouldn’t have mattered as much, but it wasn’t and I felt horrible. What am I going to tell Alejandro? I thought frantically. But it was too late to answer that question, because Alejandro had already returned.

Of course, I had to tell him about the Lego. And, of course, he was mad at me. We spent the whole of the following sermon searching the ground as hard as we could without getting up (we didn’t get up because, you know, church), but we couldn’t find it. 

Eventually the sermon ended but my family had to stay seated because there was a church meeting and my dad is in charge of praise team and my mom is the director of Pathfinders. I don’t know about Alejandro, but I spent the whole of the meeting wallowing in shame and self-pity. Maybe I have another one like that in my Lego bin, I vainly tried to console myself. But it was hopeless, I’d let my little siblings raid my Lego bin years ago and besides, Lego wrenches are not exceedingly common.

The meeting didn’t last long, and ended with everyone getting down on our knees to pray—including my siblings and I. It was one of those prayers where everyone’s silent for a little bit so they could pray to God individually. I’ve always liked that idea—I do my best prayers when it’s just in my head.

Dear God, I prayed. Please help me to be able to find Alejandro’s Lego wrench, or to at least find one just like it in my Lego bin so I can replace it.

When the prayer ended, I was already wondering if I could find a Lego wrench on Amazon or the Lego store. I opened my eyes. Then I saw it. I blinked, and looked again—but it was no joke. There was the Lego wrench, laying on the floor right in front of where I was kneeling. Thank you, God! I prayed again, and showed my family the recovered Lego. 

I’ve prayed many prayers since then, and I know I’ll pray many more, but I know I’ll never forget that one. I’m glad I have a God who answers my prayers, even when it’s about something as unimportant as a Lego.