When I finally went to check on things, I found that there wasn't really that much damage, but it was still a hassle because I have a ton of stuff in there, stuff that is not easily moved - a piano, a table, a bunch of heavy tubs, etc. After moving a bunch of stuff out into the hallway and triple checking the important things to make sure they weren't damaged, I moved everything back in so I could close and lock it. It's important for me to note here that my storage lock is not a padlock - it more of the shape of a roll of pennies, but about 1/4 of the size. As I go to lock it, I realize that it's no longer connected to my key.
I pitch a silent fit in my mind at how ridiculous it will be to try to find it, especially since I have moved so many things around, and I have no idea at what point it fell off my key. I look all around for it, moving tubs and lifting bags of clothes. At some point of my impatient frustration, it occurs to me to ask God for help. So, I pray. As I am praying, I say something like, "God, please please please just let me find the lock. I don't know how, but just please let me find it." Even as I say these words, my mind goes somewhere that it hasn't gone in quite a while (consciously anyway). Full blown anger toward God. This may sound incredibly ridiculous, seeing as how it was over a lock and key for crying out loud, and I'm the one who lost it anyway... but there are so many more layers than that. I think to myself, "God isn't going to let me find this lock. He never answers prayers the way I want him to, and He sure isn't going to start now." These words were exactly what I have been thinking, and harboring inside for years, ever since my mom died. Everything points back to that day, it seems.
And then something beautiful happened. As grace is always found, it certainly wasn't at my most "shining" moment that God decided to bestow his favor on me. It was at my grossest, most bratty, ugly moment, right after I told God that I was sure he wouldn't help me, that I angrily lifted up a trash bag full of old clothes (that I had already searched once during this process) and out fell the lock that I was so sure God wouldn't let me find. I sat there stunned for a moment and then quickly repented.
I have been processing the depths of this seemingly small act of kindness from Him. In an instant, He showed me that instead of believing that God answers prayer, I believe that He won't. My issue is not that I believe God can't do something, but that I believe He will not, for whatever reason. It is a belief that has been detrimental to my faith over the last several years. He is gracious enough not to let me stay that way. He granted me one simple request when I didn't deserve it, as a reminder that He is for me, He answers prayers, and I must have faith in Him rather than doubting Him at every turn. I am really thankful.