My husband Dave and I unloaded our car after a fun-filled day trip to Prince Edward County Trails—a network of bike paths and hiking routes an hour drive from our home in Brighton, Ontario. As soon as I walked in the front door, I noticed a flashing light on our answering machine. I pressed the button. “Hi, Dave and Sharon Deur. You don’t know me…my name is Janet. I have your camera…”
What? I rummaged through my bag—sure enough, my camera was nowhere to be found. How did this stranger have it? How did she know it was mine?
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I rarely freak out about the loss of material things—but the photos on this camera were priceless. Almost all from our recent vacation to Wyoming to visit our youngest son and his wife. Our oldest son joined us and it was the first time we’d all been together in over a year. I’d cleared the memory card beforehand—just some old photos that I’d already downloaded—so I’d have plenty of room to capture every precious moment. I snapped away like a shutterbug during our mountain hikes, capturing the gorgeous scenery, flowing streams in the Big Horns and even a rodeo!
Dave and I had one day after our trip before we had to return to work, so we mapped out a bike ride along the Millennium Trail in Wellington. Upon our arrival, I snapped a few shots while Dave detached our bikes from the hitch mount. Now I realized that was the last I’d seen of my camera.
I hadn’t downloaded our Wyoming pictures. They could’ve been lost forever. There was no name or address on the camera. We didn’t know anyone in Wellington who would’ve recognized us from the photos. Who was this Janet? Some detective?
I called her back. “How did you find it?” I asked. “How did you find me?”
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“I recognized your church in a few photos,” she said. “Another photo had a young man wearing a name badge. I phoned the church secretary to connect the dots.”
Janet described old photos I thought I’d deleted. But how could she have recognized our church?
“Where are you?” I asked. “Where can I meet you to get the camera?”
I didn’t have to travel far. Janet lived just fifteen minutes away—she attended our sister church the next town over.
