On my way home from a trip to Wisconsin Sunday, my gas guzzler on "E" and my mouth craving a little Diet Pepsi, I stopped at a gas station along the I-90 interstate for a quick fill-up.
Standing in line near the counter, I glanced around at the snacks and the odds and ends for sale when my eyes fell on a small display box on the countertop. In downhill handwriting with X's over the misspellings, the box's sign read something like this:
Bracelets, 50 cents
Please buy a bracelet. I'm raising money for my friend who has a brain tumor.
Braided carefully by little hands, the red, white, and blue bracelets were much what you would expect from a young child. They were nothing so special, but as I approached the clerk, the lump in my throat grew larger, and I knew I had to buy one. The handwriting on that note was startlingly similar to my son's, and frankly, I couldn't imagine the pain of being young and having to understand sickness and dying and death.I pushed my debit card and the bracelet up to the clerk and told him that I was at pump six. I knew I would never wear the bracelet, that it would probably end up in my trash can as soon as I arrived at home, but there just seemed to be something more significant to it than a few pieces of yarn.
"I couldn't charge that bracelet to your debit card since it's for a benefit," the clerk said after he'd rung up my purchases.
For a second, I couldn't think, and all I said was, "I just have this debit card." From behind me, a silent middle-aged man slid 50 cents on the counter and nodded to me as I walked out the door.
Driving away, the tears slipped from my eyes while I thought about the meaning of it all. A child had a brain tumor. Another made simple yarn bracelets to support him. I was just stopping for fuel and a Diet Pepsi, and instead, I was touched by the kindness of strangers.
If you think God can't work through you, consider the bracelet maker and the quiet man with a few extra coins in his pocket. They didn't just help the sick child. They blessed me as well.
