Good Exists

There was a sign in front of the church doors on Saturday that our service would begin in the meeting area outside the sanctuary. To the priest and deacons, this is probably a nice change of pace from a typical service, but to me it means an uncomfortable number of people standing squished together, unable to see anything happening in front of the crowd, as we wait for the Gospel to be read. Then, after the Gospel reading, a hundred or so people slowly jamming themselves through three sets of double-doors to find seats in the sanctuary. It is really my least favorite way to begin a church service.

When I saw the sign, I looked at Anne. She looked at me. We both wore expressions of displeasure.

"Do you want to skip church this week?" she volunteered.

"No," I answered. "We're already here. We might as well go in and spend an hour. Besides, if we skip this week, we won't be able to skip next week if we want to -- and next week is going to be super-crowded."

Now, I do realize that what I said to my daughter may not sound exactly like an example of model Christianity. Right? After all, Christmas and Easter are the high points of the Christian year! But you have to remember that my daughter is not an outside observer to this conversation. We have a history together that is included in every conversation.

Here are the underlying messages in what I said:
1. We have already come to this service. It may be more uncomfortable than we anticipated, but we are going to follow through and complete what we began. We are not quitters.
2. Church attendance is too important to skip two weeks in a row.
3. Next week's service will be overly crowded because it is a major holiday, therefore we need to be aware that the parking situation may make attending service difficult. Remember when we could not find a parking stall at one of the Christmas services and had to come back for a later one.

After church, we proceeded to the grocery store where we picked up a few items. At the checkout, Anne whisked our cart and bags toward the door before the clerk had even handed me my credit card and receipts. I followed, with receipts and card in hand rather than immediately putting my credit card into my wallet. This is highly unusual for me as I rely largely upon routine to be able to remember things.

About an hour later, a huge knot formed in my chest as I pulled out my wallet to pay for a fast dinner. My credit card was missing! I paid with a different card, but I searched through my purse, pulling out all sorts of paper trash, all through dinner. My card could not be found.

"Alright. This will be fine. Take a deep breath. It is probably just lost. I can get the number for the bank's credit card services off the back of Anne's card and have them cancel mine if I need to," I thought. "Now where was the last place I used my card?"

Putting things back into my purse so we could leave our table, I recalled leaving the grocery with my card and receipt in hand. "It is probably in the plastic divider between the front seats," I reasoned. "I'll look when we get to the car and it will be right there, wrapped in the grocery receipt."

I felt better as hope welled in my chest. Moments later, I opened my car door to look in the hard plastic between the front seats. My card was not readily apparent, but I knew that was where it had to be. It was not.

"It probably just slipped between the plastic thing and my seat," I reasoned, but I was getting nervous that it might not be there. I pulled out a few slips of paper from  beside my seat and peered into the crevice. Seeing nothing, I slid my hand down into the hole to grope around. Nothing.

"Ohh, nooo..." I inwardly groaned. "I hope it is in a grocery bag at home."

"It's not here," I announced to Anne. "Let's return the movie and go straight home." We headed across the street into another parking lot to return the movie at the same grocery store where we had been only hours earlier.

Inside the store, I instructed Anne to return the movie while I went to the customer service counter. I really thought that my card was probably at home in the bottom of a grocery bag or maybe even in the darkness under a front seat in the car, but I figured I would just check with customer service while I was at the store anyway.

At customer service, I asked, "Hi. Did anybody happen to turn in a Visa card tonight?"

"Name on the card?" the woman behind the counter asked as she looked at a credit card behind the counter. I told her and she handed the card to me!

"Oh, thank goodness!" I exclaimed, then asked, "Where was it?"

"A man turned it in. He said he found it in the parking lot."

Now think about this for a moment, if Anne and I had not stayed for the church service, we would have left the grocery about an hour before we did and the man who found and turned in my credit card would not have been in the parking lot to find it. Somebody else would likely have found the card and people are not as honest as they used to be. My bank account could easily have been drained before I even realized my card was missing. But because I stayed at church regardless of the discomfort, an honest man found my lost credit card and turned it in to the store.

Hallelujah! Good still exists in this world.