As I worked on my Honey Do list, I could see the sadness. I could hear the frustration. My wife and our 15-year-old son Jacob couldn’t find his cross country cleats.

His room. Nothing.

Closet. Nothing.

Nearly every corner in the house. Nothing.

Figuring I would join in the fun, I searched, as well. Nothing.

The cause looked lost and they headed to the garage to leave and buy a new pair.

Saying goodbye to the desperate pair, I glanced around the Mud Room by the garage. The same Mud Room where coats are temporarily discarded and shoes are going with abandon.

There on a hook was a long forgotten drawstring backpack. Grabbing it, I could feel shoes. Inside, the long forgotten and highly sought cross country cleats.

At the end of last cross country season, they had been unceremoniously discarded.

Walked by thousands of times.

Ignored at every turn.

Hidden in plain sight.

Now, the lost had just been found. Just in time.