In yoga, the concept of karma is deep and rich. The idea that we make our own fortunes, in ways big and small, is very appealing to me. I do believe in a cosmic justice, though I don’t think that justice is always apparent within the span of one small lifetime. I hope that my efforts to be a positive force in the world will be reflected back upon me, but I also think that many times I’ve been the beneficiary of undeserved divine grace. This story is an example. I had a wonderful thing happen last week that could easily have been an awful thing.
Mark and I have just returned from a few days in Jacksonville, Florida, where we were visiting his brother’s family. Erich and his wife have a lovely house in the southern suburbs of Jacksonville, and are only twenty-five minutes from Ponte Vedra Beach, so we made sure to head out there on one of the fine afternoons we were there.
My previous Florida beach experiences have made me wary. I’ve stayed at some luxurious beach resorts but I’ve also walked in some decidedly sketchy public areas. Years ago at a beach in Miami my husband and I were the victims of a smash-and-grab robbery. We came back to our rental car after a relaxing walk on the sand to find someone had smashed a window, popped the trunk, and stolen all our luggage hours before our scheduled flight home.
So before we drove to the beach last week I asked my sister-in-law if I needed to worry. Is it safe to lock my camera in the car, I asked? She told me thoughtfully that she’d never had any trouble there and never heard of anyone having anything bad happen there. So I took my camera along with my sunscreen and trashy paperback and we headed out.
We took a nice long walk, gawked at the enormous houses along the beach, and settled in to sunbathe. About mid-afternoon, I went back to the car to get a bottle of water and use the bathroom, then rejoined Mark on our beach towels. At the end of a pleasant afternoon, we walked back to the parking lot and I stopped by the trunk, waiting for Mark to punch the button to unlock it. As I turned to face him, I saw him looking expectantly at me. “Go ahead and open it, sweetheart,” he said. I started digging through my bag, saying, “But I thought you had the keys!” Five minutes of increasingly frantic search produced no keys. Upon further thought, I had a hazy memory of setting the keys down on a bench in the ladies bathroom. I ran across the lot to see if they might still be there, but had a sinking feeling when I realized that hours had passed since I had been there. No keys in the bathroom. I turned back towards the car with a lump in my stomach, to see Mark walking towards me, jingling the keys high in one hand. He had found them on the driver’s side seat in the unlocked vehicle, with the following note:
“We found your keys in the bathroom and pressed the alarm button until we heard your car and we put keys in your car for you”
It was unsigned, written in ballpoint on a torn paper towel. Nothing was missing from our car, not even my camera.
Whatever the source of that good action, whether it was from karma or just somebody up there looking out for me, I was very grateful to feel the effects of someone else’s kindness.
