By Susan Shanklin

I would like to tell you a story. A true story. A story so amazing and almost unbelievable … BUT true.

I’m a sentimental person. I’m emotional and nostalgic. I’m a romantic at heart. I enjoy simple things, and usually inexpensive things. 

On special occasions like anniversaries, Tom and I will go on a little outing to commemorate that we love one another, and we made it another year. Ha. While we are out and about, Tom will buy me a trinket of sorts for ME to remember the day. I basically kind of drag him into little shops for ME to find that special something. 

Often he will find a seat and have that patient gaze of the eyes look until he says, “ You find it?”

Well, it’s got to be special and, above all, pretty.

A couple of years ago, on May 24, we decided to tour the neighboring town of New Ulm. It has a lot of beautiful old homes, little shops, and a funky old German restaurant. I think that year we were more interested in the funky old German restaurant and their strange salad and German barbecued baked ribs.

After our humongous lunch of strange salad and ribs, Susan sets out for that special treasure to remember our anniversary. By this time, Tom is ready for a nap, but he faithfully follows me into little stores. I’m sure he is pleading for the good Lord to secure that “perfect” treasure for me quickly so we can go home.

Quite possibly, God heard his prayer, and I found the most beautiful pair of earrings for not much money at all … and soooo pretty. 

They are a larger style and far more fancy than I usually wear. They have a large-cut black stone with a silver setting with fake diamonds. EEEEEK.

I don’t wear them often. For one, they are heavy on the ears, and two, they’re kind of fancy.

For whatever reason, a couple of weeks ago in the middle of the pandemic, I chose to wear these particular earrings. Why? I don’t go anywhere, so I don’t know why I would wear them.

It was gorgeous outside for early spring, and I was in need of transplanting peonies from the side of the barn to anywhere I could find to put them, or Tom was just going to till them under and plant grass! So cold-hearted, methinks. I have got to get those peonies out of there and right now!

I text my daughter, Heidi, to see if she will take some since she is moving to a eight-acre spread. 

“YES!” she replies, knowing how beautiful mine are. Pink and white doubles. 

I get the wheelbarrow and shovel and start digging up peonies in my fancy-pants earrings. 

I grunt and groan, digging and dividing the plants. Oh, I guess Heidi got six or seven and a few lilac transplants.

Next, I dig up hundreds more … at least it seems. Some peonies go into the old flower garden, around the new she-shed, and some around the front of the house.

There are a few splinted peonies left, but I have run out of energy and places to put them. Later, Tom fires up his tiller and grinds the soil fine.

We come in for lunch, and as my habit is, I fuss with my curly hair. I can get pretty bushy, even when the hair salons are not closed due to the pandemic.

WHAT! An earring is missing! I instantly flash back to funky salad, ribs, and treasure hunting. My heart sinks, drops, and collapses in disbelief. 

Tom! I lost my earring. One of my beautiful earrings.

His response, “Oh, that’s too bad. You’ll find it.”

My response, “We have got to pray!” Like right now, or the world will stop turning.

We do pray, and my mind wanders across the rather large front lawn, the used-to-be peony patch, the old flower garden, multiple pots of peonies, and the front of the house. Where could it be?

Oh God, pleeeeeeease help me find my precious earring.

I look. We look. No earring. I keep praying, but Tom stuck to his initial finding prayer.

It’s like finding a needle in a three-acre haystack. 

We search. No earring. Weeks pass. I’m forlorn. 

One day Tom nonchalantly strolls into the house with a slight grin on his face and says, “Do you believe that God does miracles?”

WHAT?! I take the rather dirt-filled and slightly bent-post earring and say, “Where did you find it?!!!”

“I found it stuck in the bottom of my sneaker. When I took my sneakers off to come into the house, there it was just stuck in the bottom of my shoe.”

Folks, these are his outdoor, knock around farm-work sneakers. They ain’t pretty. He wears them to do everything from shoveling manure to hauling brush. What are the chances of finding an earring stuck in the bottom of a shoe? One in a billion! Or zillion billion?

Come on. Get out of here!

I told you I had a story for you. A true story.  A true story from the peony farm.