You hear these stories all the time around the holidays. Stories of giving and compassion. I don't know about you, but I always hope that something I do or say at any point of the year has these sort of repercussions while half wondering if these tales are even true. Most humans don't randomly help each other without expecting something, so when we hear of people doing just that it's inspiring. I never dreamt that I would be at the receiving end of the moving holiday story. Today, I suddenly found myself in exactly this spot.
I'm getting ready or another weekend trip for work. It's a 250 mile drive each way, requiring me to be gone at least 2 nights. This is tough on the household, but the bills require it. The day before leaving, I typically get caught up on house work, laundry, clean the coop and the litter box, walk the dog, make sure the fridge is stocked and library materials have been borrowed or renewed. This time it also requires an oil change before the long drive.
Funds are tight. The cost of car repairs sneaks up on those of us living paycheck to paycheck. An oil change can be budgeted for. 3 new tires cannot.
So there we are, Emagene and I, early on Tuesday morning waiting for the lovely mechanics to change the oil and rotate the tires. Being in a friendly bunch, we chatted with a middle-aged woman also waiting on her car. We shared holiday craft ideas, silly stories about my chickens and her horses, talked about the differences between the pudget sound and the panhandle of Oklahoma, the silliness that brings communities together and a variety of other pleasantries.
The customer service rep came over and whispered to me that I desperately need 3 tires. They are separating, showing the wires and beyond bald. I whisper to him that I need to drive to Tulsa the next day and won't have money until after the gig is finished. He mentions looking to see if he has some used ones and disappears.
I didn't think anything of it, but the lady had gotten up while the mechanic and I were chatting about tires. They both left the room. I suddenly knew what was happening. As I was texting my husband about our plans to get me to work safely (involving epoxy and super glue) this lady (who's name i never got) was purchasing our tires. The mechanic came back to see if I had time to wait since the tires were at a different location and told me I was not to worry about the money. I asked what he meant (fully knowing what had just happened) and he simply said: just don't worry about it.
With that, I teared up, texted Pete back and tried, in vain, to find a way to appropriately thank the lady who clearly wanted to remain anonymous.
Thank you, un-named, retired preschool teacher, who had to sell her miniature horse when her husband's job relocated them to north Dallas. May you have a blessed season and coming year!
May you, reader of this blog, find a way to bless others not because this is the season of giving, but simply from a place of love. And may those blessing flow back to you one day.