the missing link

Arriving at the gravesite, I remembered Chuck mentioning that the permanent headstone had

recently arrived. Chuck had told Conan"s mom to select what she wanted. As I looked down on

the shiny marble surface, I noticed she had chosen a bronze sports emblem, along with a

picture of Conan that had been permanently embedded under a thick layer of glass.

I bent down and lovingly ran my fingers over his engraved name and the dates commemorating

his short life. Through a mist of tears, memories of a rambunctious, fun-loving little boy

filled my heart. The child I"d mothered part-time for so many years may not have come

through my body, but I had been chosen by God to provide a maternal influence in his life.

Not to take his mother"s place, but to be just a "step" away. I suddenly felt very honored

to have been chosen.

"It was a privilege to be your stepmother," I whispered out loud, bending to kiss his

picture.

Finally, a sense of peace was beginning. With a heavy sigh, I got up to leave. But as I

turned to walk away, the sun glistened on the border of the headstone, causing me to look

back.

"Oh my gosh! How could I have not noticed it before?"

The entire border of the headstone was trimmed in gold shafts of wheat . . . exactly like a

gold shaft-of-wheat pin Conan had given me years ago. Chills ran up and down my spine. I

hadn"t seen that pin in years.

Somehow, I just knew it was the missing link. I had to find that pin.

The ride home was a blur. I was so excited. Finally, I was upstairs in my bedroom tearing

apart my jewelry box. Where was it? Dumping the contents on the bed, I frantically tossed

earrings and pins to and fro.

Nothing.

God, this is important. Please help me find it, I prayed.