By Wayne Hafner

Saturday evening, I had the chance to experience these principles in action—with my 6-year-old son, David. David’s best friend in the whole world is a stuffed animal named Spikey. Spikey goes everywhere with him: to kindergarten, dance class, martial arts... and this weekend, to the Notre Dame–Navy football game with us.

After the game, the three of us—David, Spikey, and I—played on the Notre Dame field for a few minutes before catching a shuttle back to our parking area. On the bus, David and Spikey struck up a sweet conversation with the kind woman seated beside them. Her family watched, smiling as David entertained her with his chatter and Spikey’s antics.

A few minutes later, we began the dark walk from the shuttle drop-off to our car. It was about a 5–10 minute walk, but I wasn’t really paying attention to the time. I was keeping pace with a very chatty, very happy little boy who had just had the time of his life.

Then, as we reached our car, David suddenly froze. His face fell.

“Spikey’s gone.”

Tears welled up in his eyes as the realization hit. I asked him if he wanted to go back and look for Spikey, and he nodded through his tears. That meant retracing our steps, in the dark, through wet grass and chilly 30-degree air. But David was determined. So off we went.

We explained our mission to the officer directing traffic. The look on his face said it all—this was a long shot. And to be clear, when I say “parking lot,” I mean someone’s yard across from the university. The shuttle pickup had been in a field—no pavement, just soggy ground left behind by melting snow.

Still, we were on a quest to find Spikey.

We walked slowly, weaving between cars, peering into shadows, trying to retrace every step. When we got back to the shuttle stop, there was no sign of Spikey. Both of us were holding back tears now. This wasn’t just a toy. Spikey had been given to my late wife during her final days in the hospital. He was a gift. A symbol. A piece of love. And he was David’s best friend.

As we walked back, David was crying—not just because Spikey was gone, but because he was afraid I was mad at him. I stopped and looked him in the eyes. “Buddy,” I said, “I’m not mad. I love you. And we’re going to keep looking.”

Then I paused and said, “David, let’s try something. I want you to picture how happy you’ll feel when we find Spikey. Can you do that?”

He wiped his tears and nodded. I pressed a little more. “Okay, now show me that smile.”

Through the tears, he grinned.

“Now,” I said, “let’s thank Heavenly Father—for letting us find Spikey.”

So we did. Right there in the dark, we offered a prayer of thanks in faith. And we kept searching.

We returned to the shuttle area and asked each of the drivers if anyone had turned in a small stuffed animal. No luck. One driver did remember us, though, so we knew we’d checked thoroughly.

As we began our second walk back to the car, I told David I believed Spikey had been dropped somewhere along our walk after we got off the shuttle. Most of the cars were gone now, which would make it easier to see the ground. We searched carefully. Still nothing.

Then, just as we were crossing the street back toward our car, I felt prompted to tell David, “I think Spikey is going to be on the other side of the road. Close to where we parked.”

Sure enough, about 30 feet from our car, in the grass, there he was.

Spikey.

Waiting for us.

David’s eyes filled with tears again—but this time, they were tears of joy. He did his happy dance and said through laughter, “I knew God had him and put him here for us to find.”

I’m so grateful for these principles. I’ve used them in the past for small things—like finding lost keys—but never for something so meaningful to someone I love. Life without Spikey would’ve been hard. I’m so grateful we don’t have to face that—not tonight. Not this time.

_________________

•   To discover how to start choosing more effectively now, read The Jackrabbit Factor (FREE!)  
•   If you want more step-by-step guidance on creating the life you really want, join me in the Mindset Mastery program.
•   If you want my help overcoming that giant obstacle right in front of you, learn more and sign up for Genius Bootcamp.