A man named Trust

Jesus loves me

The bag in question

One advantage of travelling by car is that there are few practical limits on what you bring along with you. One disadvantage is that there are few practical limits on what you bring along with you.

I should probably take the hand weights out of my main suitcase because they make my bag very, very heavy and I only use them every few days.

I also have a lot of bags. Two camera bags, a tripod bag, a bag full of gifts for hosts, a bag of things I have bought on the way, a bag of boots, a bag of extra shirts, and a computer bag. Every time I leave a place, I worry whether I have everything with me. This may be TMI, but I left a packing cube full of underwear behind in Winnipeg.

In Lloydminster the other day, I had just checked into my motel when I needed to check a file folder with all my travel reservations that I keep with my laptop. I never leave the laptop in the car because it is an expensive MacBook Pro which I use to process my photos. But I couldn't find it in the motel room. A minute later I was frantically searching my car. No laptop. I checked Apple’s “find my” feature, but as I later realized, in my increasingly anxious state, I looked at the wrong device (and managed to lock my home desktop).

The last time I remembered with certainty seeing the laptop was nearly 140 km. back down the highway in North Battleford. I had had trouble disconnecting the charger there and had put my laptop on the ground to free up my other hand. Perhaps I left the laptop behind, I concluded.

The charger was not in a highly trafficked area, so I thought there was a reasonable chance I might find it if I went back. However, I wasn’t sure I had enough battery range in the car, so I would need to charge in Lloydminster first. When you are driving an EV and something like this goes wrong, the charging times can create a bit of a cascade.

I loaded all my remaining luggage back in the car because I did not know how this day would end and I drove to a charger at a nearby big box mall where I plugged in the car. Then I stomped off anxiously, walking in no particular direction to kill some time. I was fretting over the cost of buying a new computer—I hadn’t even paid off this one.

At just that moment, my phone rang. It was a Lloydminster number. I wondered whether it was my motel phoning to ask why I had fled so suddenly after checking in.

But it was a young man with an African accent asking if I was Paul Adams. He told me he had found my bag and asked me where I was. In front of the Walmart I said. I’m near the Walmart, he said, I’ll meet you there.

Two minutes later, he pulled up in an old black car. I asked him where he found the laptop bag and he said in Lloydminster, “beside the express lane” by the highway. I have no explanation how I could have lost it or he could have found it there.

I asked him how he got my number and he said he had looked at the file of travel reservations I had originally been looking for and it was on one of the documents. I told him he could have been a detective—or a journalist.

I had two crisp fifties in my cellphone case and I offered them to him. He refused to take the money.

I introduced myself and asked him his name. He said it was “Trust”.

“Trust, I want you to take the money. I know you didn't want a reward, but this is a big thing for me.”

“I didn't do it for money, I did it for Jesus,” he said.

“All the same, I’d like you to have it.”

Reluctantly he agreed.

An hour later, he sent me a text.

I have no idea why I said that I was blessed. I’m not religious. I guess I thought it would convey in the vernacular he was using that I felt happy to have helped him out a bit.

In truth, I also feel ashamed that I so casually carry around in my pocket the money this good man needs to feed his family. But I am very glad to have my laptop back.