Sister Brenda got off the church bus tired and sleepy. With her big black tote, she walked into the restroom then got a hot chocolate from Dunkin’ Donuts. She was thankful for the mini break.

When she got back on the bus she sat comfortably. Everyone was eatting and the lights turned off. The bus driver, Deacon McCloud, left the rest area and picked up the speed on the turnpike.

“I left my purse!” Sister Brenda yelled frantically.

“You did what?! Sister Brenda?!”

“What was in it?”

Everyone begin to ask her questions as the bus inched over the George Washington bridge.

“Did you have money in it?”

“How much?”

“My iPad is in it -with all my memories!!” She sobbed.

The questions stopped and everyone begin to brainstorm. Finally, someone got the number to John Fenwick Service area. But no one picked up.

“Let’s pick it up on our way back.”

Sister Brenda wasn’t happy but what could she do? She tried to stop worrying about it. The weekend came to an end and the church trip ended. All the people hugged. “Peace Be!” The church family climbed the bus while the saints in New York waved.

Sister Brenda went to sleep. Everyone went to sleep but Deacon McCloud. Thoughts about the past weekend was heavy on everyone’s mind. The sermons, the conversations, the food, the songs…

The bus left the Bronx. It breezed pass what was left of the city and rolled into the George Washington Bridge. It hit traffic. It sped up. Then, it slowed down again. New Jersey vanished as well as the service area, John Fenwick…

“My purse!!” Sister Brenda yelled with hope. “My Purse!!”

People near her woke. Others repositioned their bodies. Deacon McCloud looked into the rearview mirror with blood shot eyes. He gripped the wheel and asked in his most patience voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Remind me earlier? I’ll swing the bus back.”

Sister Brenda stood up this time. Fighting sleep. She watched the driver make a wide turn.

“This is not the station.” she said matter of factly when he creeped up to it. “It is too!” They began to banter about which service station she left her bag. She never got off the bus because she was now confused. “My bag” she whispered. She went back to her seat.

The bus driver drove the bus back to the south. As the people awoke, they were surprised she still didn’t have her bag! They begin to brainstorm.

“Can’t someone who is passing the station get the purse?”

“There are other buses.”

“The bus going to Virginia will get it!” Someone hung up their phone.

“Nope, Virginia already passed the station too!” Someone else hung up their phone.

“The bus going to South Carolina will get it!” Another person in the back chimed in.

But the South Carolina bus couldn’t describe the bag well enough. They left.

A week passed and Sister Branda thought about her iPad. She focused on all her pictures she took and songs she wrote. Imagining each song help to drown out the voices of doubt. There were plenty. Some whispered and other voices said it loud and clear.

“You can always get another iPad.”

“You probably won’t get your bag back.”

“You know how big that station is!?“

Then she got a call. A couple who lived in New Jersey and attended the conference got the news. They lived right next to the station! It was nothing for them to casually stop by. And it was nothing for the service station to hand over the big black bag with all of Sister Brenda’s belongings. Her money she forgot she had and the iPad with all the memories.