It was an ordinary morning that transformed into an extraordinary mission by a single phone call. “There’s a couple who need bus tickets,” the voice on the other end of the line explained, filled with uncertainty. “They’re stranded. I’m not sure who they are or how to handle this. But someone mentioned you might help.” In moments like these, decisions can’t dawdle in the gray; they demand the clarity of black or white dancing in my head. Yet, there I was, nestled in security, a good thirty-minute drive from any potential action on my part, and I wrestled with my decision about whether and how to step into this unfolding story.
The first resolve came swiftly, fueled by a conviction that the origins of their plight didn’t matter so much, and somehow, it had landed at my doorstep. The call was a divine nudge, one I’d love to tell you I received readily, but those moments come with the chance to help or not, and fortunately, I wasn’t going to let that be my answer this time. So I offered my yes to take strides to make a difference, even if a little.
My next concern was purely practical—the state of my finances. Mind you, these aren’t my family account but my little repository of funds, which often felt more like a tin can than a treasure chest. I tallied up the pennies and, just barely, the total whispered back enough for one ticket.
