Every first Sunday for nine years, I have found a fifty-dollar bill inside my hymnal. No note, just a clean bill tucked into the pages, always in my pew. The first month I thought someone forgot it. By the third I knew better. I came early, stayed late, watched the ushers. Nothing. In 2022 I switched pews, left side to right, third row to eighth. The next first Sunday the bill was in my my new hymnal. Whoever does this knows exactly where I sit. Last Wednesday our head usher, Leonard, retired after forty-one years. He asked to speak to me in the fellowship hall. He sat with his hands folded the way men do when they’re saindigpart one about to say a true thing, and he told me the fifty dollars was started by…

For exactly nine years, without fail, I have found a crisp fifty-dollar bill tucked inside my church hymnal on the first Sunday of every month. There was never a note, …

Every first Sunday for nine years, I have found a fifty-dollar bill inside my hymnal. No note, just a clean bill tucked into the pages, always in my pew. The first month I thought someone forgot it. By the third I knew better. I came early, stayed late, watched the ushers. Nothing. In 2022 I switched pews, left side to right, third row to eighth. The next first Sunday the bill was in my my new hymnal. Whoever does this knows exactly where I sit. Last Wednesday our head usher, Leonard, retired after forty-one years. He asked to speak to me in the fellowship hall. He sat with his hands folded the way men do when they’re saindigpart one about to say a true thing, and he told me the fifty dollars was started by… Read More