“And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” — Esther 4:14
Esther was the queen. By coming into that position, she was able to save thousands of Jews from destruction. Mine isn’t nearly as spectacular as saving thousands. But I think about the boy on the beach, throwing starfish back into the ocean. A man walks by and says, “There are thousands of starfish — you can’t possibly make a difference.” The boy picks up another one, throws it back, and says, “It made a difference to that one.” My backpack moment was a one-starfish moment. And that is enough.
Sometimes you are a character in someone else’s God story. And when you pray to be in the right place at the right time, you should know — it isn’t always convenient.
Even as I was living it, I knew it wasn’t about me.
The Kansas Hamptons
We spend most of our summer weekends at Kahola. For some Kansas geography, it’s about halfway between Wichita and Kansas City. One neighbor’s son calls it the Hamptons of Kansas. And the Kansas Hamptons does not have a sewer system — all holding tanks. I even have an outhouse, and I love it.
Every lake season Sunday, we pack up the car and head back to KC. It’s a two-hour drive. This particular Sunday, we had some of my daughter’s friends who live only twenty minutes from the lake, so we were dropping them off first. The Toyota Highlander was full. I needed every seat for kiddos, and the plan was to rearrange the luggage after I dropped off the two friends.
I get to their house, and my husband starts calling. There was something he wanted from the cabin and we needed to go back. He had texted the family thread. None of us saw it. We should have checked before we left.
This was going to add forty minutes.
I hadn’t yet Accepted the Correction and Moved On. I was irritated. I argued a bit, because I didn’t think the item was a “make your wife drive forty extra minutes” item. Finally, I relent and get back on the interstate to head back to the cabin.
The Hatch
As I’m getting back on the interstate, the hatch flies open. I must not have gotten it shut all the way. My daughter gets out and we don’t see anything missing. It was scary, but we’re good.
Twenty minutes later, we’re at the cabin. I get the item and I’m ready to start this whole return trip over.
My phone rings from an unknown caller. Surprisingly, I answer it.
It’s a woman on the phone. She says she has an item of high value to me. Makes me guess at what she has. After a lot of back and forth, I realize my work backpack must have flown out. The hatch was open longer than I thought.
I had never shifted items like I planned — because I was still in the “do I really have to add forty minutes to this trip” spin-out phase.
In that backpack is my entire work life. Computer. Company checkbook. Company credit cards. Apple AirPods. Everything.
She has it.
The Math Isn’t Mathing
And this is where the story gets weird. She’s telling me she can’t meet me. She’ll send it the next day but wants a reward. The amount is up to me.
We lose our connection.
I start thinking. She said she had passed Wichita. Wichita is an hour and a half from Kahola. The math isn’t mathing.
I decide to go to the Emporia police department. My daughter starts tracking my laptop and AirPods with the AirTag. (Everyone should have a technology-loving kiddo around.) They’re going the opposite direction of what the caller had said.
Long story short — with some police intervention and AirTag tracking, the caller realizes we now know she’s lying. She is mad. “Chivalry is dead. I have become a good person. I just wanted a small reward.”
She ends up dropping off my bag at a small-town police department where she lives.
The Definition of Good
As I’m picking it up, the officer and I are discussing the strangeness of this whole situation. I ask him — is she a good person?
He answers: it depends on your definition. She can make things more difficult than they need to be.
My trip ends five hours after it started. We had a three-hour detour. It gives me plenty of time to think about this woman. What life experiences would cause that kind of reaction? Why didn’t she just call and tell me she found my backpack? I would have met her and given her a reward without her asking for it. Would I still send her a reward?
I prayed about it and went to bed.
The next morning, I woke up. Yes. I would send her a reward.
“Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing.” — 1 Peter 3:9
The Lesson
The lesson wasn’t about the backpack. The lesson was that she needed to know I was giving the reward when I didn’t have to give it. I had my bag. All the contents were there. I owed her nothing. My family was saying you don’t need to do it. But in talking to her, I felt like she is a person trying. Trying, but whatever battles she has fought have her keeping her guard up. God wanted her to see that not everyone is a battle.
When I texted her the Amazon gift card, I received a very appreciative apology. She apologized in her own way about being guarded. I don’t know what made her that way. I don’t need to.
Whatever she was carrying, it was a kind of blockage — something that wouldn’t let her believe kindness could come without a catch.
Sometimes God uses us. I believe He used me to show her grace.
The minister in my testimonial was put there for me. The right seat at the right time. It cost her a whole day and a lot of inconvenience. The minister was a character in my God story. I was a character in this woman’s God story.
If you manage people and you have an important project, you look to your best. I think God does the same thing. He looks around to find the believer that can help. I think He has a plan for this woman, and I got to be the messenger.
At the time, it wasn’t fun. I had to replace a few things. I lost some time. But as I reflect on it now — like the minister that helped me, I was happy to do God’s work.
“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” — Ephesians 2:10
Sometimes you are a character in someone else’s God story. Sometimes you’re the detour. Sometimes you’re the forty extra minutes someone didn’t want to drive. Sometimes you’re the grace someone didn’t think they deserved.
And sometimes, the backpack was never really lost. It was exactly where it needed to be.
My Prayer
God, thank You for using me — even when it’s inconvenient, even when I don’t understand it in the moment. Help me see the people You put in my path not as interruptions but as assignments. Give me the grace to give grace, especially when it isn’t earned. And remind me that my story is never just about me. In Jesus’ name, I pray.
Niki McDowell is a Stage 3B triple-negative breast cancer survivor, a wife, a mom, and a woman who does her homework. She writes from somewhere between faith and the fight.
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