In honor of the 37 anniversary of a show I loved as a child, let me tell you a little bit about the things I learned watching a campy romance detective show, called Hart to Hart.

Summer 1981. I was a young child on vacation with my folks, staying at my Grandfather and his wife’s home. He had remarried after my grandmother passed away. It was late, and I probably should have been in bed. But summer. And my parents we talking with family they didn’t get to see often. My brother and some cousins were off playing somewhere and I was flipping channels on the TV.

I can still see her tv sitting there in the living room. It was bigger than the one we had at home. In my head, I can still see the airplane taking off that screen for the start of a show I had never been allowed to stay up late enough to watch. And suddenly, the most amazing sparkling blue eyes and dark hair I had ever seen graced the screen. With an impish grin and boyish charm, he was dazzling. This man was gorgeous. I was mesmerized by someone named Robert Wagner, as only a very tired ten year old can be.

The next images on the screen were of this beautiful wavy red haired lady. Suddenly I was cursing my own stick straight dishwater blonde head. She was playful, fun and graceful. Oh to be just. like. her! In that one setting, Stefanie Powers became my definition of what it meant to be a woman.

And then there is their quirky house man/butler/friend/family played by Lionel Stander. His role is hard to define. He calls it simply taking care of them. Everyone needs a Max!

The images from that episode are burned into my head. It was summer, so the current season had ended, but the newest one had not started. This means reruns. For those of you blessed to grow up in the age of DVD, this meant the only way we could see a show was to wait for whatever night it was on, and if it was between seasons, we had to suffer the indignant insult of re-watching episodes. I was ok with it that summer, as they were all new to me then. This also meant I watched Downhill to Death in the summer. They were skiing in Vail, I was sweating in Indiana.

Yes, I fully admit I was an odd child. My friends were all about the young teenage boys, I was enthralled with this adult couple. One of the things I learned watching this show is marriage could look much different from the ones I saw around me. This couple was in love with, looked out for, and trusted each other. They were together in almost everything they did. They fully believed each other. Somewhere in my pre-teenage mind, I set out to find a man I could trust like that, who would trust me like that.

I learned a man who could make you laugh was a very good thing. To be able to have fun with the people you live with creates joy in the home. Being friends and lovers is an amazing chemistry. And while you want someone who can be serious when he had to be, fun that is not at the expense of someone else is a treasure.

Then there is the fighting factor. I learned you want someone who is willing to fight for you, or for those around you, or for those who can not fight for themselves. The champion of the underdog. A hero who steps in to right the wrongs and injustices around you. When someone has a heart for the hurting, they are looking out for those who fall into cannot help themselves category.

While I’m sure that given enough time, I could come up with a way more things, the last thing I’ll share is their affection. This couple was always affectionate, holding hands, walking arm in arm, kissing each other’s cheeks, head, lips. Even in pretty tense situations, he would take her hand to lead her, or she would grab his arm to follow him. I believe that affection gave them strength and comfort when they needed it.

Now, before you ask, yes I am fully aware they are fictional characters. Yes, I know real life isn’t that perfect. However, I also don’t think it hurts us at all to strive for the impossible. We never know how close we can get until we try.

Did you know when you loose a key, you can probably figure out about a million different things you can learn from that one small act? It’s stunning how many times something keyed in on KS and me as we combed the beach for that little metal object. I mean, it’s crazy to find lessons each time we walked or talked.

First off, let me explain a little bit about me… I don’t loose things. Like almost never. Especially when it’s something like keys, sunglasses or my phone. These things are on my person nearly at all times. And, should something crazy happen, like I can’t find something, I can step through what I’ve done and find the missing. Usually in 20 minutes.

So, to not have this key was a bit stressful. As I talk to KS about this, she reminded me that things are different for me right now. The death of a parent is unlike any grief I have had to walk through before, and it will take some time to figure it all out. This key I needed was to go easy on myself.

We walked and we talked. In that discussion we concluded sometimes the key you seek is not the key you really need. Even when you think it’s exactly what you need, it’s not, and you won’t understand until later why.

Often, as we walked, I would find trash. Lots of trash. (I was kind of surprised and appalled at the amount of trash I found.) Bottles. Bottle caps (both plastic and metal). Broken toys. Lost toys. Wrappers of all kinds… who knew there were so many green wrappers and caps? When you are seriously searching for something, whatever you are searching for from guys to keys, you have to keep working through the trash to get to the right one.

Once, as we walked I found I pen on the beach. As I picked it up I almost heard the thought run through my head, “The key is to write”. Wow… Write what? Doesn’t really matter. Just write. Let the words, like the tears, flow and you might be amazed at what you find.

We walked and talked for four days. And as the last day drew closer, my stress level grew. I just knew it was going to be expensive to not have that key to turn in. However, when the time to check out came and there was no key, I sucked it up, and told the lady in charge I would only be turning one key in. Know what? It was no where near the cost I thought it was. Because sometimes, we make things out to be worse than they are.

We drove away from the condo feeling like, while I didn’t get everything back as I had wanted, it was all taken care of. Not ideal, but something I could live with. KS and I had just a couple things to finish, and then we grabbed lunch before we left. As we sat, enjoying the cloudy but warm day, my phone rang. It was not a number I had saved, and yet, it looked familiar, so I answered it. Indeed, someone further up the beach found that key. It was turned in, and I owed nothing. Sometimes the only key you need is trust.

This evening a my friend KS and I were going to take a walk on the beach. However, with dark clouds looming, and lightening beginning to flash for the third night in a row, we made our way back to our condo and continued our conversation.

Maybe 30 minutes later, no storm. In fact, the sky seemed much clearer, and we opted to chance that storm for a walk down the beach. And as we often do, we chatted about rather philosophical topics, while keeping our eye on the still impending storm threatening to soak us if we did not hurry back. Since we were already damp from the sprinkling going on, we decided it was, indeed, time to go in. To top it off, now we were hungry.

We approached the door, and I expected her to pull out her key to the door. She expected me to do the same. Um… key? I don’t have a key… Oh, yeah… we were completely locked out of our room. And this isn’t a hotel, remember? There is no desk clerk to run back to for another key card. No, this is a condo, and you need a number for the after hours people to come rescue you. Feeling a bit thankful the storm had cut the power our second night in and I had called to let them know, I called for backup.

About an hour later, the cavalry arrived and opened the door. Yay. Glad to be inside, we glanced at the counters expecting to see two keys… but only found one. Panic began to set in. I have no idea where my key is.

I go back to the beach while my amazing friend cooks dinner. It’s dark. The waves are relentless in their crashing at the sand. Little white crabs (and some not so little) are running all around me. All I can think is how crazy it is to be looking for the key… how I am literally looking for an key that is impossible to find on my own, and feeling like I am doing the same thing in my life. Not only can I not find said key, not having it makes me vulnerable. (Cue Jennifer Hart in my head “The key is the key”… Thanks Hart to Hart.)

And I remembered a friend telling me the story of a missionary forgetting her suitcase and then finding it on a luggage carousel from the wrong airline as they caught their next plane. The missionary looked at her and said, “And that is why we never worry with Jesus.” So after looking a bit, I gave up and came in. No key.

I told my friend my thoughts when I came in. As my friend began to talk I expected the key to be some kind of key to life situations going on. What she hit me with was grief being a key… Are you kidding me? Just hearing her speaking about it cued the tears. I can’t even tell you what exactly she said.

I basically hit a wall tonight. It was big. It was heavy.  It was dark. It was daunting.

We sat on the deck and listened to the waves crash relentlessly upon the sand. We talked a little more. And then she began to sing. Worship washed over me. Worship lifted me. Tears flowed. I could do nothing but let them come. Let them cleanse me. Let them heal me. Let them comfort me.

When she was done, I was exhausted. But felt a need to put this down. Worship. In grief. In sorrow. In pain. Worship is a healing balm. Worship is the salve. Worship is the key. My physical key is still missing, but I have a greater key to hold onto.