Paid Forward

Last summer, I found a wallet in the street. Being a Christian and I’d like to think, a very nice person, I tracked down the owner through a business card in his wallet and gave it back to him because that’s what we do. The early twenty-something was very grateful and tried to pay me. I didn’t accept. I figured he needed the eleven dollars in his wallet more than I did. I simply requested he pay it forward sometime and that in turn, I would have it paid forward for me.

Fast forward to December 26th. Yep, you got it. The day after Christmas sales and the day my kids wanted to trade in all their gift cards and cash because they just didn’t get enough games for their Nintendos. My ten-year-old son carries his own wallet. Hey, I’m trying to teach responsibility. Well, you guessed it. He took it out in the toy section to count his loot and put it on a shelf when he picked up a toy.

When we got home—because my seven-year-old forgot her envelope in the rush to run out the door—my son asked where his wallet was. After a few heart-stopping moments, we jumped back in the car and raced back to Target. Along the way I said a prayer to God that the wallet would still be there--believe me, I knew the chances were slim on such a busy day—but I prayed anyway. I asked him to pray as well.

“No.” My son is having issues with his belief and somehow feels God hates him-especially now that his wallet is gone. “God hates me.”

“No He doesn’t, Honey. God has bigger things to worry about than picking on you.”

“Nope. He hates me.”

“Okay Lord, I need some help here. Really need some help.” I tried again. “God loves you. Sometimes he just has a unique way of showing it. There’s got to be a gift or message in this for you from Him.”

Mentally I’m trying to count how much money was in that wallet and knew it was going to cost me at least a hundred on top of what I’d already spent for Christmas, because I refused to let the lost wallet dash his Christmas spirit. Okay, I know there’s tough love and a responsibility factor, but there’s also being a parent and protecting our children from the harsh realities of life as long as we can. It’s a scary world out there and he’ll spend more time in it than in the dreamy state of childhood.

It turns out I didn’t need to worry. My prayers worked. Rushing up to the customer service counter while my kids scrounged around the toy section, I asked if a wallet had been found.

“A black child’s wallet with no ID?” The young lady asked?

“Yes. It’s got a few Target gift cards, a Borders card and some twenties inside.”

“Yes. Tiffany has it. Some man found it in the toy section and gave it to her.”

I almost cried. I’d like to hug the man who found the wallet and realized he held a child’s Christmas inside. It would have been so easy for him to pocket it and use it himself, except he understood the contents were more than just pieces of plastic and money.

He truly was a messenger, and my son learned that God does love him. So whoever my good Samaritan was. Thank you and God Bless You.