You might say I’m a bit hyper-responsible. My ex-husband often called me, and not always in a joking way, “Super Cop of the World.” For twenty-five years, my desk has featured a Nicole Hollander cartoon about the obligations of those in the First-Born
Club. In the same vein, when people ask why I never had children, I typically answer, “I’m the oldest daughter of an oldest daughter of an oldest daughter. It had to end!”
So, when recently I was in charge of gathering the money for a spiritual event, I darn well was going to make sure I got every cent from every person. Not everyone took this obligation as seriously as I did, and some gentle nudging (okay, nagging) went on.
Finally, the last fifty dollars came in–two twenties, a five, and five ones. Whew! I stuffed the cash in my pants pocket and drove home from the last prep meeting. After I parked my car and got out, a funny thing happened. The wind came up, hard and strong. I braced myself against a light pole as I waited for the walk sign. As I did that, every single bill flew out of my pants.
I was able to run down the twenties and the ones, but the five was nowhere to be found. After a few more minutes, I decided God would get it into the hands of someone who needed it more than I did. I also decided God was giving me a not-so-gentle nudge about the relative importance of collecting the fees vs. doing my part to see that the event would feed all those attending. The experience helped me hang up my super cop badge, at least for a while.
