I was young, full of dreams, and determined to succeed. While attending college, I worked at a local diner, hoping to save as much money as I could. One evening, as I drove home during a storm, I noticed a figure of a fragile man struggling to hide from the heavy rain. Little did I know that the meeting would change everything for me years later.
The night was awful. I could barely drive because of the storm. But something told me to stop my car next to the man. Before I could figure out what I did, I uttered: “Hey, are you ok?”
Pale, soaked, and exhausted, he just nodded.
“Get in,” I said through the pulled-down window.
My heart raced. Honestly, I was afraid because I didn’t know what I had gotten myself into.
I welcomed the man home. He introduced himself as James. I offered him some food and told him he could spend the night on my worn-out couch. Before long, he had fallen asleep and I went upstairs.
As I lay in bed, I contemplated my decision to welcome a complete stranger in. But how could I leave him there in the storm? I knew better than driving past by someone in dire need of help.
Just as I was about to fall asleep, I wondered if I should lock my bedroom’s door. I somehow knew James wouldn’t hurt me, but I also thought of my mother who always warned me to be careful about everything. Had she been there, she would say, “Don’t be stupid Celia, that man is a stranger. Lock the door, dammit!” So, I did lock it.
When the morning arrived, I went downstairs and prepared breakfast. James was thankful I didn’t leave him out in the open during the storm, and I pretended it wasn’t a big deal, as though welcoming strangers in was something I did often.
James reminded me of an injured bird that needed time to heal before being able to reach to the heights.
As we ate, I gave him some money and an open bus ticket, a gift from my mother.
“I hope this gets you somewhere…safe.”
James left and the encounter between him and I became just a story I sometimes shared with friends.
Life went on, years passed by, and I married. My husband and I welcomed two children.
I was happy with my family. As of my job, it wasn’t really what I imagined, but we somehow managed.
One morning, while I was making pancakes, someone knocked on my door. My husband was at work and the kids were upstairs, doing their homework, or whatever they did.
When I glanced through the glass, I saw a man dressed in a nice navy suit. He was holding a leather folder in under one arm.
I was behind with my credit card payments, so I assumed he was someone from the bank.
Trembling, I opened the door and asked, “How can I help you?”
The man looked straight into my eyes and said, “You have already helped me. Years ago.”
“James,” I said, shocked. “Yes, Celia, it’s me,” he said. “I promised myself to repay for your kindness years ago, and I was trying to track you down for so long.”
I couldn’t believe my eyes. James looked nice, he was dressed well, and he didn’t resemble a bit of that man I saved in the storm. But what remained the same was his calm demeanor and his honesty.
“Listen, Celia,” he said calmly. “You have no idea how your kindness during that stormy night helped me. I used the bus ticket to the nearest town and went to the shelter the man sitting next to me on the bus told me about.”
I was listening carefully. And then James proceeded. “I few days later, I found a job, and today, I run a company that helps fund shelters and scholarships. None of it would have been possible without you.”
Before getting to where he was, he struggled and worked odd jobs, and whenever he thought of quitting, he recalled the stormy night and that gave him hope. He knew there is kindness in the world, and he needed to give it to those in need.
After sharing his life story with me, James handed me the folder he was carrying.
“This is for you, Celia,” he said. Inside was a deed to a house.
“James, I can’t accept this,” I said, still in disbelief. But James insisted. He wanted to gift me that house, which was just a few miles away from where I lived.
“Celia, you were the only person who didn’t treat me like I was invisible during that heavy storm. I was at my lowest point, and you showed me you cared, you gave me something I hadn’t felt in years; a reason to keep going.”
I was stunned at James’s words.
Accepting that house meant a lot to him, so I agreed to accept his generous gift.
I never thought that a seemingly small act of kindness could have such a profound impact.
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