the cynic put to shame

This morning I was approached by a six-year-old girl who was in desperate search for the chapstick she'd misplaced. Apparently her father gave it to her for the day and she didn't want to return home without it. She asked me if I'd help her look for it and I scoffed at the idea in my head. She doesn't know any better, I thought. How on earth did she expect to find something so small when it could be virtually anywhere on the camp ground? I tried to comfort her, emphasizing that it was simply chapstick and her father would not be upset. Though she was perhaps disappointed, she gave up her search and continued in her play.

Several hours later, I was sitting at a picnic table with a couple of the older boys in the camp. In the midst of conversation, I heard a small voice asking, can you help me find my chapstick now? I almost laughed. There we were, six hours after the girl's chapstick had disappeared, and she was still looking for it. But before the pessimistic in me could explain to her the loss of the cause, another boy at the table quickly spoke up. Chapstick? Was it pink? He ran off towards the swing set and returned shortly thereafter with a tube of chapstick in his hand. She took it with thanks and walked away.

Coincidence? Maybe. Meaningless? Maybe. Purposeful? Maybe.