Rummaging through the kitchen junk drawer, in search of scotch tape for my daughter’s latest art project, I find, naturally, a menagerie of everything but tape…a few paperclips, a sharpie marker, some stray envelopes.

“This drawer is a disaster”, I mumble as I pull out a dust-covered deck of playing cards and a pair of broken Mickey Mouse sunglasses.

“Why am I saving all of this?”

Instructing my daughter to fetch a plastic garbage bag, I begin to purge the messy drawer of all the useless “stuff” that has been collected over the years. Odds and ends are examined, and then quickly tossed.

“Throw it all away. It is high time we get organized around here. Any wonder we can’t find your tape.”

Focused on my de-cluttering project, I do not notice the small red and blue box about to make its way from my daughter’s hands into the trash.

“Whoa…You don’t want to throw that away!” Interrupted by my husband’s voice.

I look up to see him taking a deck of playing cards from my daughter. Two words- “Skip Bo”- mark the front of the tattered box.

“Oh honey, thank goodness you walked in here!”

“We almost threw away our Skip Bo cards!”

These cards are pretty special, I think to myself. Sort of like a gift from God.

Closing my eyes for an instant, I am taken back to the moment when I first encountered our treasured “Skip Bo” game.

Enjoying a date night with my husband Allen, I am at Blossom Music Center, summer home of the Cleveland Orchestra. The lawn in front of the amphitheater is blanketed by couples indulging in romantic picnics, complete with wine, cheese, and gourmet delicacies. A slice of heaven, this place is a favorite of mine.

Couples walk hand in hand under the starry early evening sky. Citronella candle aromas waft upward, mixing with the familiar barbecue and charcoal smells of summer. Crickets chirp hello as Allen and I search the densely wooded picnic grounds for the perfect al fresco pre-concert dining spot.

Lugging our cooler through the woods, we search in vain for a vacant table.

“I’m afraid we got here too late”, sighs Allen.

“There isn’t anywhere to sit.”

“You can join us”, offers a welcoming voice.

Turning around, an older couple, surely at least in their seventies, promptly scoots over in their seats, making room for us at their table.

“Oh, we don’t want to intrude”, I politely say, though my aching feet tell me to just graciously accept the offer and sit down.

“No problem at all.” The older gentleman smiles at me and pats the picnic bench.

“We are just finishing up.”

“Please sit down and enjoy yourselves.”

Relenting, we spread a red and white-checkered tablecloth on our half of the table, careful not to disturb our new friends. We uncork our wine and unpack the chicken salad, all the while watching the elderly couple out of the corner of our eyes.

Taking a deck of cards out of their picnic basket, the pair starts playing the fastest-paced card game that I have ever seen. Delight fills their eyes as cards slap against the wooden table boards. Laughing with each other, they reshuffle the deck and soon start another game. Noticing our interest, the pair allows us to move in for a closer look.

“Ever play Skip Bo?” Questions the elderly gentleman.

“Nope, but it looks like you two are having great fun”, I say.

“We bring our cards everywhere. Want to learn how to play?” Asks his wife.

Before we have a chance to reply, we are immersed in a Skip-Bo lesson, complete with strategy tips on building piles of sequential number cards in the most efficient manner. As cards are dealt, shuffled, and played, Allen and I find ourselves grinning from ear to ear.

All too soon, bells ring, signaling the start of the orchestra performance.

“Thank yous” and “Nice to meet yous” are exchanged, then our Skip Bo mentors pack up their cards and head down the hill to the pavilion.

“We had better find our seats, too”, I say, anxious not miss the concert.

Gathering up our things, we both notice a familiar blue jacket left behind on the picnic bench. Recognizing the elderly man’s parka, I wonder how we will ever find him in what seems to be an ever-multiplying sea of concert-goers.

“There are over five thousand people here tonight. We will never find that man,” says Allen, seemingly reading my mind.

“Just leave the coat. Let’s get going so we can find our seats.”

Heading down the grassy hill towards the pavilion, we quickly hand our tickets to an usher. Onstage, the orchestra is already tuning as we search for our section. Looking up to find our seats, we both see him…An elderly man standing in the middle of the center aisle, seemingly waiting for someone to arrive.

“Could that be…?”, asks Allen in amazement.

“That looks like the Skip Bo guy!”, I say excitedly.

“Go tell him about his jacket.”

Walking towards us, the man offers Allen an outstretched hand in greeting.

“Hello, you two”, he says with a smile.

“I have been looking for you.”

“You have?” I ask in wonder.

“We were hoping to find you. You left your coat on the picnic bench up the hill. I hope it is still up there. We didn’t think we could find you in this crowd.”

“Oh, never mind about that.”

Then, handing us an oddly familiar box of playing cards, he adds, “Here, my wife and I want you to have these.”

“Thanks”, we manage to mumble in return. “But we can’t take your game.”

“We have another deck”, he replies. “This one is yours.”

Giving us the old pack of old Skip Bo cards, the man quickly turns away, vanishing from our sight. I am left in a state of wonder. Who was the man who so mysteriously reappeared in a crowd of thousands of people? Did we see him merely by chance, or was it more as it seemed…a messenger sent by God to show us how a loving marriage could stand the test of time? Bound by faith, we chose to believe that the day’s events happened for a reason: God wants us to love one another, and what better way to strengthen our marriage than by sharing common interests and having fun with our spouse?

Setting aside the now five-year old cards unearthed during my cleaning project, I realize that Allen and I have tried to be true to the man’s message at the concert so long ago. Weekly date nights and vacations spent enjoying each other’s company have helped keep the spark alive in our marriage. Friends stare in disbelief when I tell them that we actually eat on the fine china in the dining room after our children are asleep on Saturday evenings. By choice, Allen comes home each afternoon to eat lunch with me and share in the news of the day.

Silently thanking God for his concert messenger, I place the Skip Bo box on our dresser where we can be reminded daily to laugh and love in His name.

Stefanie Wass swass@adelphia.net