In case you missed yesterday’s post, J.P. and I found a 20-dollar bill lying in the grocery store parking lot. Yep, we’re exciting married folk, shopping for groceries at 10:00 on a Saturday night.
We looked around to be sure it wasn’t another joke; then I bent down and picked it up. J.P. said, “Heh, heh, suckas! If you weren’t so busy tricking people with that single, you might’ve found this yourselves!” They were too far away to have heard him, but still—it felt good to have a laugh at their expense.
Of course, I couldn’t help thinking about the person who dropped the money. I kept picturing him or her, searching every pocket again and again, in the hope that the money would somehow turn up. You know that empty feeling you get in the pit of your stomach? I hate that!
To us, 20 bucks is a nice little windfall, but it really isn’t that big a deal—we’d spent nearly twice that at the restaurant we’d just left. And see, here’s the thing. The grocery store is in an okay part of town. But a lot of the people who shop there don’t have a lot of money. What if the owner was there to buy food for his kids?
What to do? This money didn’t belong to us, but if we’d left it on the ground, someone else would’ve just come by and taken it for themselves. We could’ve taken it inside the store and turned it in. But who’s to say the store employee wouldn’t just pocket it for him/herself?
So I made J.P. drive by the store’s entrance, and we looked around for someone who might be searching for a $20. There was no one in sight. Still, I didn’t feel right about just keeping the money.
I put it in the offering plate this morning.