Dear Diary:

After a recent foot operation, I have had to take taxis to get around. I took one to see a doctor at Beth Israel Hospital. When we got there, I paid and got out, only to realize that I had left behind my bag with indispensable belongings like glasses and keys.

I started running after the cab as it moved away, although, with an orthopedic boot protecting my foot, it was more like trying to walk swiftly. “My bag is in that taxi,” I shouted to the passers-by looking at me. The cab stopped a block away at a red light, then sailed off.

As I walked back toward the hospital trying to figure out what to do, I was surrounded by three women who appeared at almost the same time and expressed concern about my situation.

“You couldn’t stop it, could you?” one of them said. Another, a tall woman with blue eyes, had an idea: “Let’s pray together for the recovery of your bag.” And that was exactly what we did.

It was a lovely, slightly strange scene: Four women, hand in hand in Union Square, praying in a circle among an afternoon crowd of office workers, shoppers, joggers, older people, children and others.

It was a good prayer, as the tall woman said when we finished. And some hours later, it was answered when an official from the taxi commission who was searching for the lost bag called my phone, and the cabdriver picked up.