I was headed to the bank to do the daily deposit for the office. I had just exited the building, and I thought I had heard, "Miss! Excuse me, miss?"
Now, I haven't gone to college and go to work in New York City for nothing; usually the are two options why someone calls after you on the street. 1) Crazy. 2) Crazier. I continued to stride purposefully down the block.
But then I heard it again, "Miss! Excuse me, miss?" and I stopped, my eyes already going hard, my mouth grim and unsmiling for the possible showdown. It was a pleasant-faced man, in a cap and an blue argyle sweater. "Excuse me, miss, did you drop these?"
In his hand were two checks totaling nearly $8,000. My heart almost stopped.
I nearly kissed him out of gratitude. OK, maybe I would have hypothetically hugged him.
I nearly kissed him out of gratitude. OK, maybe I would have hypothetically hugged him.
"Thank you so much!" I enthused. "I would have gotten into so much trouble—thank you, thank you, thank you . . ."
"Sure," he replied cheerfully, patting me comfortingly on the arm. "Pay it forward, y'know?"
I'm no shlack. This is the first time ever that checks flew out of my pocket. And yet, what are the chances that on the first time I mess up, there is a Good Samaritan (pardon the New Testament term) there to pluck them up?
I was so grateful to the Eibishter for sending the pleasant-faced man, at that exact moment in time, to help me learn my lesson, but in a way that spared me excess aggravation.
I thought of how every ounce of agony that we get is parceled out precisely by the One above. After having a tense last couple of days, that redemption from further-shot-nerves was an obvious God-send. But then again, the good and the annoying all come from Him; I should keep that in mind the next time I feel harassed, to see His hand in the "bad" as much as I see it in the good.
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