Just a pair of glasses..!

MY friend, the orthopedic surgeon was insistent, “Bob,” he said, “I need your help. My old clinic’s gotten too small, come with me to see this new one. I need ideas.” He pulled gleaming steel tape from pocket. “I measured the room yesterday,” he said. “Let’s do it all over again.” I bent down and held the tape against the wall.
I felt my glasses slip out and fall. A glass came out of frame. I hastily slipped it back into pocket and held tape. There was no light in the room, and the carpenters from neighbouring room continued throwing more and more debris into the doctor’s future surgery.
We went across to Irani restaurant next door. We looked at measurements. “Draw a plan Bob,” he said to me. “I need a waiting room, consulting room and a cloak.” I put my hand to pocket, to fish out my reading glasses. One glass came out, but there was no sign of the frame and the other. “My glasses,” I whispered, “they’re missing!”
“Sit,” said the surgeon, “I’ll go up with a torch and search.” I sipped the tea, it was tasteless. He came back, “you sure its not in your car Bob?” he asked. I shook my head, we had both seen it falling while we measured.
We went back into dingy room. It was pitch dark. The high ceilinged ancient walls seemed to smirk. He came back with flash light. There were no glasses, nor sound of crunching glass. The carpenters continued dumping their debris.
The surgeon’s wife joined us, we searched every bit of room. There were broken tiles, junk and huge pieces of broken doors and windows, but no spectacles.
It was an ordinary pair of glasses, a present from my wife. For me they were special. I moved to the corner of the room. It was dark while I prayed.“ Lord, find them for me, please!” The carpenters continued dumping their debris. “Let’s check under the debris,” I said suddenly. “We already have,” said the surgeon a trifle impatiently. “And if they’re under, they would be broken and useless by now.” I called a carpenter. “Lift that piece there,” I said. He started doing so. “But you didn’t stand there,” said the surgeon.
“Lift,” I told the carpenter. Wood piece after wood piece was picked up and scattered around the room. And then I saw it. It shone in the darkness. I picked it up. Not a scratch on glass or dent on frame.
“How did you know it was there?” asked a very puzzled surgeon as we left the old building, “how were you so sure?” “I prayed,” I said, “and then I listened.” Just a pair of glasses; one small prayer, and God gave them back to me..!

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