Exactly eight years ago, I found myself in line at the co-op with no wallet. I’d been out on other errands, so, not a good feeling.
I quietly panicked, fishing through my bag even though I could clearly see it was devoid of my wallet. My twenty-seven dollars worth of sundries were already rung up (so, yes, I was that person), and I thought to just leave, but then realized I should at least check the customer service counter to see if maybe I’d dropped the wallet in the store and some good Samaritan had turned it in. Neither of these things were true.
I hurried back to the line in defeat. Except, my groceries were bagged up and ready to go and the woman behind me had paid for my tomato soup and veggie sushi, my rice crackers and pecans. “I’m so worried for you!” she said. “Identity theft, so many things can go wrong. I’ll pray for you.” She hugged me then, and pressed her cheek against mine. The warmth of her skin, her breath, her soft hair, an elongated moment.
Then she told me God w…