Money Well Spent

When I first moved to Kansas City, I loved it when it snowed ... loved it. But when I first moved to Kansas City, I was a stay-at-home mom and I never had to leave the house if I didn't want to when the white stuff covered the ground. But now I have to drive downtown every day to go to my job, and I detest it when it snows. What is normally a 30-minute commute can easily turn into a 2 to 3-hour drive, and I always dread it when the weather guys say snow is on the way. I didn't watch the weather last night before I went to bed, so I was more than surprised when I let the dogs outside this morning and saw the dusting in my back yard. It was just that ... a dusting ... so I didn't think that traffic would be bad ... it was just a dusting. But my commute this morning was an hour and 45 minutes, and I was not a happy camper to say the least. And the longer I sat on the interstate watching my gas gauge dip, the more I fussed at myself for not getting gas yesterday at lunch. I finally made it to work, with my low fuel light on for the last couple of miles. So after work tonight, I pulled into QuikTrip to fill up before I headed home.

It's cold here tonight, really cold, and I was aggravated that I had to pump gas in the cold, dark air. And I was even more aggravated when I had to wait for what seemed like forever for an open pump. As I slid my debit card into the reader and started pumping the gas, something caught my eye. An old, beat-up car was being pushed into the space at the pump in front of my car ... pushed by a man and a woman. When the car was positioned in front of the pump, the man waved to the woman and left. I watched as the woman climbed back into her car, and I noticed that she was dressed in a skirt with no hose on and that she had on a thin, worn, lightweight jacket. She's just trying to get warm before she pumps gas, I thought, as the lever clicked off indicating that my tank was full. I put the lid on my tank and jumped back in my car, more than ready to be out of the cold and on my way. But I couldn't help but look at the woman in the car directly in front of me ... and I saw that she was crying. Just drive, I said aloud in my car ... just turn on the heater and drive away. And then I saw the kids, two of them, in the back seat of her car. Well, crud, I said to the air in my car ... well, crud.

I pulled my car into a parking place at the front of the store and walked over to the woman's car and tapped on her window. She looked startled as she rolled down her window, surprised I'm sure to see me standing there. "Are you OK?" I asked, "Do you need some help?"

"I ran out of gas," she said through her tears. "I was out trying to get a job and I thought I had enough gas to make it home but I didn't. And I don't have any money and I don't know what to do."

I stood there for a moment thinking, and then I said, "I'll buy you a tank of gas."

As she got out of the car to remove the lid to the tank, she was practically sobbing. "If you'll tell me where, I'll send you the money when I get a job, I promise I will."

"No," I said, "You don't owe me anything."

When I pulled out my debit card, one of the children got out of the car ... a little boy, maybe seven or eight years old. "I will pump the gas, lady," he said, "I'm the man and I'll pump the gas."

I smiled at him and said, "OK, little man, you can pump the gas. And you can get back in the car and warm up," I said to the boy's mom who was shivering in the cold. "We've got this."

"I really am the man," the little boy said, "My daddy died and now I'm the man."

"What's your name?" I asked as my eyes filled with tears.

"Mark," he replied with a lopsided grin on his face. "What's yours?"

"Terrie," I answered, noticing that his pants were too short and his coat was too small.

"It smells like hamburgers out here," he said. "I like hamburgers."

"Have you had dinner tonight, Mark?"

"No, we don't eat dinner. We eat a piece of bread for the morning and then lunch. We don't have a lot of money until Mommie gets a job. My daddy died. I miss him a lot."

"I'm sure you do," I said as I struggled not to let the tears overtake me. The gas clicked off, and I helped Mark put the nozzle back on the hook and took my receipt. As I turned to say goodbye to the woman as she got out of her car to thank me, Mark wrapped his arms around my leg and said, "Thank you, Terrie, for helping us. You're a nice lady with white hair." Still a sweet kid even with the white hair comment, I thought as I watched him get back in the old, beat-up car.

"Thank you so much," the woman said as she extended her hand to shake mine. "I really will pay you back if you will let me."

"I know you would, but it's not necessary," I said, "but I will let you do one thing for me to make us even."

"Anything," she said, "I'll do anything I can to thank you."

"Get your kids and go in QuikTrip with me and let me buy you guys some sandwiches or hot dogs for dinner tonight. Let me do that for you and your kids, and we'll call it even. Deal?"

The tears rolled down her cheeks again as she nodded her head and got Mark and his sister out of the car and walked into the store with me. I bought them enough food to last them for a few days (including some candy bars for the kids ... all kids should have candy at Christmas), gave the woman the small amount of cash I had on me, hugged the three of them and got into my car to go home. The woman's last words to me echoed in my mind as I drove ... "This morning I prayed that God would give us a miracle today so that my children could eat tomorrow. I have no more money and didn't know how I would feed them. You're His miracle ... thank you, sweet lady, thank you so much."

God is amazing, just plain old amazing. What happened at QuikTrip tonight had absolutely nothing to do with me and everything ... everything to do with Him and His love for His children. I didn't plan on spending an extra 75 bucks today ... but it may have been the most important 75 bucks I've ever spent in my life. Money well spent, friends, money well spent.