08/03/2026
Last night I had dinner at The Basin in Montrose. My bill came to $62. I paid with a $100 bill and, without realizing it in the moment, was mistakenly given $72 in change.
At first, it felt like nothingājust another transaction, another ordinary night. But later, when I sat with it, I couldnāt ignore the quiet unease that began to grow in me. I had been given $34 that wasnāt mine, and even though no one else seemed to know, I did.
As someone who believes deeply in God and attends church every Sunday, I went to church this morning carrying that $34 with meānot just in my pocket, but on my conscience. It weighed more than it should have. Every moment of worship felt shadowed by the same persistent thought: I need to make this right.
Today, I went back and returned it. It may seem small to some, easily dismissed or forgotten, but integrity has never been about the size of the mistakeāitās about the condition of the heart when you choose what is right, especially when no one is watching.
The moment I handed it back, something in me softened. The tension I had been carrying all day finally released, as if I could breathe fully again. What I thought was just $34 had become a burden far heavier than its valueāand letting it go brought a peace I didnāt realize I was missing.
Peace, Iāve learned, doesnāt come from perfection. It comes from an honest heart finally being at rest.