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Good luck is a treasure in itself, and I’m all about treasure hunting. Blackbeard may not have made it to Indiana. The lost Confederate gold probably didn’t fall into Hoosier hands. But what if - cause I’m an if’n kind of guy - the Reno gang stashed their plunder along White River? In my wildest dreams prosperity always beckons.

So, when I find myself a little short of cash, I kick the pennies that have been dropped on the ground. If the head is showing, I pick up the copper because I’ve always been told it’s good luck. If tails are facing the sky, swift boots are administered until Lincoln is eyeing me. His glare is bothersome, but I am searching for moolah from the hand of providence not a Presidential pardon.

Serendipity sometimes interrupts the penny ritual. Once a king’s ransom in loose change and three one-dollar bills were raked from the base of a dryer that needed fixed. A dime might glisten in the sunlight. Old pants have coughed up long-lost cash. But, generally I either have a little currency on me, or I don’t. “Finders Keepers” hasn’t made a measurable difference in my wallet.

For a moment this September that almost changed. As I wheeled in to park at Sam’s Club, a lady in the spot next to me opened her door, jumped out, and picked something up. Whatever it was, she looked stunned. Motionless and bewildered, she stared silently at the other two women in the van before moving.

It was evident that she had picked up money, maybe a five. The bill in her hand was folded crisply. Beside her thumb, the numeral five was clear. She spoke in a confused tone with her companions. Perhaps she asked for advice. I did not recognize the language, but her body language spoke volumes.

I smiled and headed towards the entrance. She appeared worried about the individual who had dropped it, and I was wondering if they would even notice. What a nice person!

When I came back, what appeared to be the same folded, five-dollar bill lay on the ground and had a stick on it. The money blended perfectly with the dry grass next to where they had been parked. For some reason I knew it might be there. The woman had made her decision to leave the cash on the lawn next to the curb. When I reached down to pick it up, three fifty-dollar bills and President Grant took my breath away.

Think about that. When’s the last time you lost any money? You may have combed through the house and then searched the car multiple times. You might have gotten too sick to do either. Maybe these ladies had been there and done that. Regardless, they found and then left one hundred and fifty dollars. Who knows? The amount might have made no difference.

Any of us might wish we were lucky enough to have more than we expected. I wouldn’t be scuffing my shoes and kicking coins if I didn’t. Maybe these women did too, yet they had weighted down a significant amount of funds for the owner to find.  How devilish! Unintentionally (maybe) they left the treasure and the decision in my hands.

The money was taken inside the store, and the situation was shared with the manager. She said it would be placed in the safe. If nobody claimed it, she assured me it would go into their Riley’s Hospital Fund.

There are bad things happening in the world every day, but there’s goodness out there too. There are people who can control their wants and make tough choices. They put a little extra pressure on the rest of us to try to do the right thing too.

I had not booted a single penny that day but was fortunate enough to watch those ladies. I didn’t understand a word they had spoken but shared their mission. How much luckier could I have been?