Young and Poor

Young and Poor
By:
Lee Stuart

It was big…and old. My 1972 Dodge Dart. How I wished I actually owned it in ’72. However, I was young, poor; a single parent with a singularly small income. So sixteen years and an original engine was my transportation. It wasn’t stylish, in fact there was no real name for what it was, but it was mine.

November rolled around and it was decidedly cold. Record lows were already being noted by the news. Not a great time to have a car break down which meant that was exactly when it happened. Only six miles to work everyday, with a stop at the daycare center four miles into the trip. The poor girl couldn’t make it that far and sputtered and coughed and finally rolled herself to a stop midway on the route to work one morning.

I laid my head on the steering wheel and tried not to cry. This was only the third week of my temporary assignment. I needed the money and I really wanted the chance to get a permanent place with the company. I looked over at my daughter and her sweet toddler face just smiled in return. So unaware of what problems this breakdown could mean. A small blessing in a bleak moment.

With a large sigh and a lift of my shoulders, I stepped out of the car into the biting wind. The only thing that could make the morning colder would be rain. While looking under the hood of the car it did just that. Time was moving by quickly and I still didn’t have any idea how to get the car started again or how I would get to work. With a final glance at an engine that wouldn’t turn over, I dropped the hood.

I opened my door. The wonder that was my daughter looked at me inquisitively and I smiled at her reassuringly. I went around to her side of the car, got her out of her seat and walked with her to her day care. Once I settled her in, gave her a hug and kissed her goodbye I quickly headed to work. On foot.

Twenty minutes late, but finally in the door, I walked as fast as possible without drawing notice to myself. I worked my way through the cubicles toward my assigned desk. I had just sat down when my supervisor walked up.

“You’re twenty minutes late.” She said.

“I know and I am so sorry but my car broke down.” I replied.

“Please come with me to my office. I have to give you a verbal warning. I’m sorry about your car but its company policy.” With that she turned and headed toward her office.

I got up and followed. My feet were dragging and my shoulders hunched. It felt as if the world truly did rest on me. It was only morning and I felt completely exhausted. How was I going to get to work tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that? I didn’t know, but it wasn’t looking good. I went into her office, signed my acknowledgement of receiving a verbal warning and headed back to my desk. I did wonder on the return why a verbal warning was in writing, but really, who was I to question it?

As the day progressed, I tried to concentrate on my work. It was difficult, but lunch time finally came. Now was the time I could call around and arrange to get her towed home. There was no need to tow it to a garage. I didn’t have any funds to have it repaired. However, if I didn’t have it moved, the county would move it for me. This would not only cost more, but they would charge for storage too. That was an option I didn’t want to consider. By the end of lunch I had arranged to have the car towed. The cost would take all of my grocery money for the week, but had to be done. I would worry about the groceries later.

By the end of the day, the pressure had gotten to me. The worry over the grocery money wasn’t waiting until later and the walk home didn’t sound too appealing.

Mercy rains on the just and unjust. Whichever group I fit in, mercy rained on me that day.

There was a lady that sat on the other side of the wall; the wall that separated my cubicle from hers. Her name was Verla and she seemed quite nice the few times I had spoken to her. Cubicle walls are quite thin. I tell you this in case you haven’t had the experience yourself. In any case, she overheard most of my conversations and had pieced together what hadn’t been said. This is not difficult to do when you take into account thin walls and a distraught young girl-woman who hasn’t learned how to modulate her voice in times of distress.

Verla made her way to my desk.

“I understand you are having trouble with your car?” She asked in her kindly middle-aged voice. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

The kindness overwhelmed me and I began to cry. “Thank you so much and I appreciate the offer. Would it be possible to get a ride to my daughter’s school two miles away?” I asked in a hesitant, trembling voice.

“Yes, no problem” she replied, “but I had something else in mind. I spoke with my husband this afternoon. We have a spare car we keep as a back-up and we would like to lend it to you until you get your car fixed.” She looked at me with a tender smile on her mouth and in her eyes.

As I cried harder at the extreme kindness a virtual stranger would offer me in a dark moment I replied, “Thank you so much for the offer, but I couldn’t borrow your car.”

This is when she said:

“When my husband and I were first married, we were young and had just moved here from the mid west. We had two small children and my husband had a new job when our old, beat up vehicle took its last breath and went kaput. Well, a man that lived next door to us heard of our plight and offered us the use of a vehicle. As difficult as it was for my husband’s pride, he took up the gentleman’s offer and borrowed the car until he was able to arrange for us to get another car. He felt it was more important to earn a living and feed his daughters than it was to keep his pride and refuse the car. When we returned the vehicle, we offered to reimburse him with money. The man looked at my husband and me and told us that the only thing he asked was that we help someone else in need one day.” She paused for a moment.

“So you see, by borrowing our car, you will actually be helping us fulfill our promise to the man who assisted us when we were younger.” She looked at me without judgment or condescension.

“OK” I replied after a moments thought. “I will borrow your car and I am so grateful. Thank you.” This was stated with such a sense of relief that immediately some of that weight I felt earlier lifted from me. I did however feel a new sense of humbleness.

Never had I met with such kindness from someone who didn’t even know me. Their kindness went beyond the lending of a car, however. In fact, that was the least of what I was offered that day. For on the day they lent me their car, they taught me that there was still kindness in the world. That I too, could offer this feeling to someone else in need, that accepting help is okay in times of trouble and that I could trust others even if I didn’t have a long relationship with them.

Nearly twenty years on and I still enjoy the kindness offered to me so many years ago. A stranger gave me a chance in a moment of darkness and I am a different person for that. The value of how my heart responds to others can never truly be expressed, but only humbly and gratefully received as each new day is offered to me.