A wealthy relative has left you a hefty sum in her will.

You're hoping it will be enough to erase the financial pressures you're facing, maybe even get the kids through college. But, in fact, the bequest turns out to be so enormous and so bound by stipulations that a good amount of time must be dedicated to fulfill its terms.

Salvation Army directors found themselves in that position this week as the full extent of Joan B. Kroc's history-making, $1.5 billion bequest became clear. The McDonald's heiress had left the organization the money to build and operate more than two dozen state-of-the-art community centers in needy locales around the country, similar to the one she funded through the Salvation Army in San Diego.

"You've got to be inspired by the opportunity, but it comes with a bucket load of challenges," said Salvation Army spokesman Maj. George Hood in Alexandria, Va., still sounding stunned by the enormity of the task before him. "It places the Salvation Army in an entirely new era.

"Think of the emotions we went through. You're elated, but once the shock fades you start thinking, do you realize what we have to do to make this work? But if Joan Kroc trusted us this much, how can you turn that down?"

While Kroc's gift is of unprecedented size, the Salvation Army is not the first recipient to struggle with the implications of a sudden windfall.

Lottery winners have been known to take a year to come forward, setting up trusts and investments before the spotlight hits. Colleges, universities and museums carefully consider how large bequests will be positioned before announcing them.

Huge cash infusions may come as a mixed blessing, as was the case with Poetry Magazine in Chicago.

The struggling publication, dating to 1912, suddenly found itself with a $100 million grant from drug company heiress Ruth E. Lilly. Ten months later, the editor of 20 years left, and now the people who spent their lives in pursuit of grant funding are setting up a foundation to give money away.

Once in a while, a gift creates so much contention that it winds up being given back or taken back.

In 2001, businesswoman Catherine B. Reynolds rescinded $38 million she gave to the Smithsonian Institution for a Hall of Achievers after curators balked at some of the names she suggested. And in 1995, Yale University returned $20 million to Lee Bass after he sought veto power in the choice of faculty to be funded by his gift.

Unrestricted sums carry the fewest complications. That would include the $200 million gift from Kroc's estate to National Public Radio. The donation was announced last fall, and NPR spokeswoman Laura Gross said the organization is taking its time to decide on its use.

"A majority of it will go to our endowment to secure our future," Gross said. "But we're still holding meetings with board members, member stations and staff. It's going to enhance our programming, but we are taking the process very seriously."

The Salvation Army welcomes Kroc's bequest as a blessing that will expand its mission and transform its definition of outreach. This, Hood said, is both inspiring and a little scary.

Half the $1.5 billion bequest will go for construction of the community centers, and the other half to an endowment for ongoing costs.

Yet it's not enough to fulfill Kroc's mandate.

The Salvation Army, which doesn't have a major gifts division, will have to raise an additional $75 million annually to keep the centers running. And the money will have to come from the centers' host communities, which may be the least able to raise the funds.

It's a bit of a Catch-22, but Hood believes the organization will find a way to reconcile it.

"That's the big challenge," he said. "We'll be looking for communities to form a coalition of leadership with corporate, foundation and government support to help us finance and underwrite the ongoing costs."

Already a request has come from a town in West Virginia that's about to demolish a vacant high school.

"They said they'd give us the property if we'd go there and build. The question is, would any community in West Virginia be able to pull this off? We don't want to plop a center in a community that can't afford it."

The Kroc-funded community center in San Diego opened 18 months ago. It covers 12.5 acres and includes an Olympic-size pool, a theater/concert hall, ice skating rink and skateboarding park; it also offers music lessons, child care and tutoring. Kroc financed it with a gift of $87 million; it took four years from the date of the donation to the building dedication.

"My guess is it will take 18 to 24 months before a site [for the next center] is even selected," Hood said. "We will move very carefully and methodically so we don't get in over our heads."

One major concern is choosing sites that won't compete for resources with existing facilities run by such groups as the YMCA, YWCA, Jewish community centers or Girls and Boys Clubs of America.

"The last thing we want to do is overlap or duplicate existing programs," Hood said.