The Kindness of Strangers

There have been many instances in my journey where I have had to rely on the kindness of strangers. In all of the instances, as the receiver of these acts of kindness, the acts directed towards me always touches me to my very soul.

In the months that followed our separation, my car started a rapid decline in health. The Jeep Grand Cherokee, which had once been a status symbol of our financial union, had over 270,000 miles on it. It had served me well. The SUV was medium sized not monster sized and I loved to drive it.

At 270,000 it started having some minor aches and pains and in a car like this they were not always the most inexpensive fixes. I found a local dealership that would help me. The car and I would limp in, I would drive it through through the service bay and get out and hand my keys to the assistant service manager. Over the months that ensued I found myself driving the familiar route once or twice a month and a few times, AAA would be summoned for transport.

I'm not sure how the service manager found out, but somehow he knew I was going through some hard times. Once I arrived at the end of the day to pick up my Jeep, walked up to the window to collect my bill and all the service fees had been waived and I had only been charged for the parts. Knowing the bill was wrong, I asked for the service manager. He quickly appeared inquired if everything was alright with my car and I told him my concern. He laid a hand on my shoulder and told me that "Yes, the bill is absolutely correct." Trying to hold back tears to save us both the embarrassment, I could barely mouth my "Thank you so much" out to him before blindly walking to my car. This happened more than once.

Once one of the mechanics said in passing, the black Jeep is back again? And I saw the Service Manager cut his eyes at him and I'm sure that later he got a good dressing down. How did this service manager get to be me and my Jeep's personal guardian angel?

One morning with my 4-year-old belted into her car seat, I pulled into the familiar bay and I saw him give a nod to the mechanics and they surrounded my car. I hadn't even turned off my engine yet. Two young men had opened my car doors, taken my keys, filled out my service report, gently unbuckled my daughter, removed her car seat and back pack and upon seeing my eyes water with grateful tears they quickly shuttled me and my belongings to the front of the Courtesy Car line ahead of many those waiting. It was like I had my own personal pit crew everytime I arrived. I could almost hear the paging system blaring "Woman about to cry in service bay - take care of her fast!!" If I wasn't so desperate at the time, it would have almost been comical.

It meant so much to me at the time, because I did need the extra help, but I didn't understand why they were helping me and not the next person. Needless to say, thanks to the continual breakdown of my car, the men in the service department didn't stay strangers for long. However, their kindness touched and humbled me in a way I can't describe.

It doesn't end there - I have had gift cards appear mysteriously in my mailbox, help with odds and ends and a group of nameless friends at church knitted me a prayer shawl. My family supports me in a never ending fashion. I have been stripped and humbled in ways that I didn't know possible; maybe this is the lesson in all this for me. I once had been hopeless and I found my way out. Through the help of my family and the kindness of strangers, my faith and hope have been miraculously restored.