In the course of nearly 50 years in journalism, I have seen and covered so many instances of humans’ inhumanity to fellow humans, my ability to trust has been damaged, at best.

People in jail point to their finer facets — and there are many, but the crime of which they are accused or have been convicted overshadows much of it.

Convicted of murder, a man tells the court at sentencing that he has found The Lord and wants a shorter sentence so he can help others make the same discovery. It’s more needed in prison.

A fellow convicted in a sex case involving minors makes the same plea.

For each, there will be an awakening that there are good people in our world.

I had that awakening this past Saturday.

We had been to the State Fair so the oldest granddaughter could receive the other part of her graduation gift — a trip that would be fun. We watched Gabriel Iglesias, better known as “Fluffy,” and she laughed so much she was gasping at times.

It was all good.

The next morning, however, I discovered my wallet missing, obviously lost at the fair.

I immediately called and cancelled by debit card, hoping no one had used it, but fearing he or she had.

We picked up my eldest son at his place just outside Pueblo and he drove. I was shaking so much I could scarcely stand up. My whole life is in my purse and a great deal of it is in my wallet.

I prayed as I have never prayed before.

When we got to the fair grounds, I had finished crying and steeled myself for the worst.

Asking security persons at the gate for lost and found, I was given directions to the security office, a couple of blocks away.

A woman with a baby goat in tow brightened my spirits a bit as the goat danced a little jig.

Walking in to the security office, I found a young girl at a desk counting tickets of some sort.

“I know the answer is probably ‘fat, slim and none’ but did someone turn in a wallet last night?” I asked.

She looked at me and offered a bottle of water.

“Let’s look. Was it blue with pinkish flowers on the flap? It’s here.”

I expected the cards and money to be gone.

Opening it up. I found everything just where it was, down to the grocery store receipt and my ever-present ballpoint pen.

“Oh, thank you God!” I said.

The young woman smiled.

“Someone very honest was at the fair last night,” I told her.

She nodded and wrote something in a logbook. “Enjoy your day,” she said with a genuine smile.

When I left the security area, everything looked bright. I stopped to look at a calf and almost petted a piglet.

The downside was that I couldn’t use my debit card.

I had some cash, so all was not lost.

When I returned home, I went to San Luis Valley Federal Bank to get my card reactivated. The young woman I was sent to see couldn’t have been nicer. I was made whole again.

Life resumed almost as it has always been. Alamosa is and will always be home and I thought about the times I wasn’t as pleased with the community.

Dialing a number to make a donation, I felt safe, warm and secure.

God bless the people in Texas. My miracles were small and they need some big ones.

“You go, Lord,” I prayed, “I know you can do it.”