Thanking An Opportunity To Be Kind
“It’s not in his character to be kind,” she remarks, her head slumping down, she begins to massage her forehead as pain seeps in.
“Dammit!” Elaine screams, hitting the steering wheel. “Why? Why now?”
“If you had taken better care of me. I would run better,” a voice said.
Shock held on to her heart for a second as she glanced around the scene where her engine died. A young man wearing a greasy bad-colored white t-shirt, oil, and black dirt stains decorated his tight blue jeans that showed his muscles. He stood a few inches away, wiping his hands with a dirty grey rag and a sly grin.
“That was a good one,” Elaine compliments him glancing around the Gas station. “But don’t ever scare an old lady like that again.”
Still grinning, circling the car in excitement, “This is a 1967 Shelby GT500 Super Snake Mustang? Isn’t it?”
Smiling at him in amazement, she said, “It’s my son’s car. Say, how did you know the year, make and model?”
“That’s the first car my father owned. I have lots of happy memories of driving around in that car. It’s a collector’s item now. He shouldn’t have sold it,” he shared with regret.
Opening the door, Elaine steps out, asking, “so you can examine it and tell me why it shut down?”
He quickly lifts the hood, his eyes widen in awe, “Wow!” he exclaimed. “Your son takes good care of her.”
Elaine watched as he checked the engine. Then he went inside the car, turned it on. Nothing came on. He returned to the engine, tinker around for a few moments, and restarted the vehicle. This time the engine came alive. He then pressed something in the back into the engine, and it shut down.
“Ok,” she said. “What’s wrong with that car?”
“$1,500.” He said.
With raised brows, she asks, “Is that why the engine died?”
“No,” he uttered casually, taking the dirty rag from his back pocket and wiping the grease off his hands. “That’s the cost for me to tell you what’s wrong with your car?”
Glancing around for other mechanics, “so I have to pay you first?” she grilled.
“I am the only guy in this garage/gas station who can tell you what’s wrong with this expensive vintage car. And fix it too,” he boasted.
“Don’t you do anything out of the goodness of your heart?”
“Oh yes,” he replied quickly. “But only when it pays the bill.”
“Ok,” Elaine said, snatching her cell phone from the bag she left on the passenger side.
Thirty minutes later, Triple-A came with a tow truck, and another driver delivered a rental.
Five days later, Charles and Sabrina Hanglin sat inside the office of Dr. Sylvester Crowe at the St. Mary’s Children’s Hospital, awaiting Pediatric Surgeon Dr. Wilson.
Minutes later, the door behind them opened, and Dr. Elaine Wilson entered carrying a file, as two pairs of eyes turned to stare at her.
“Good afternoon,” she greeted them, staring at Charles as a spark of recognition ignited invisible flames.
Sabrina stood up, returning the greeting, “Good afternoon.”
Charles’s silence called out to his wife. Staring at him with furled brows, still seated, she pulled him up. Shock pressed the mute button on his tongue as he rose. After realization hits his memory, gulping in shock, he squeezed out, “Sorry. Good afternoon,” avoiding eye contact.
Dr. Wilson sat down facing them, “please, sit down,” she indicated. “Dr. Crowe told me a few things. What do you want from me?”
“Well,” Sabrina began to explain.
“Let your husband tell me,” Dr. Wilson suggested eyeing Charles, a mischievous smile on her face.
“He knows nothing about what our baby is going through!” Sabrina exclaimed.
“Prove your wife wrong,” Dr. Wilson prompted.
He sighed, his eyes roaming around the room as if he was searching for a signal. Then he said, “our four-year-old daughter Emily needs surgery for a hole in her heart that was missed at birth. We have no insurance. Dr. Crowe suggested we talk to you as you are the only Pediatric Surgeon who is capable of performing such delicate surgery and you. . . . .” he paused as if he lost signal.
His wife slapped him on the back of his head then said, “you often do this for free.”
“No,” Dr. Wilson said. “He has the correct answer.”
Giving her husband a sideways glance, Sabrina demands, “Is there something going on that I should know about?”
“Should I tell her, or will you?” Dr. Wilson playfully eased her upper body towards them.
“You always do these things out of the goodness of your heart,” he fished out.
“You are the lady with the mustang? Aren’t you?” Flew out of Sabrina’s mouth.
“So he did tell you?” Dr. Wilson said.
“Your starter cable wasn’t securely attached to the battery, and when you brake suddenly, the cable flew off the battery,” she revealed. “He could have told you that for free.”
“You mean that’s the reason the car didn’t start?” Dr. Wilson asked in surprise.
“Yes, doc, that tiny and simple reason. I am so sorry for his insensitive behavior. You needed help, and he refused to help you out of the goodness of his heart?”
“So it’s a habit of his.”
“Yes,” she agreed in disappointment.
“Why?” Dr. Wilson demanded to know. “Why must you apologize for his behavior?”
“How was I to know she was a doctor,” his greed defended his action.
“It doesn’t matter who she was! She needed your help. It would help if you gave it. She was on her way to examine our daughter!”
“I didn’t know that,” he repeated.
“What if she was on her way to save our daughter’s life?” his wife chastised.
“I was just trying to earn a living,” he protested.
Turning to her husband, she cursed, “You are a mean dishonest bastard!”
“I am sorry,” he apologized.
“It’s not in his character to be kind,” she remarks, her head slumping down she begins to massage her forehead as the pain seeps in. Looking up with tears in her eyes, she begged, “You are our only hope. Our baby will die if she doesn’t have this surgery.”
“Well,” Dr. Wilson relented, “It’s in my character to be kind and give hope!”
“You mean you will help us?” Sabrina inquired, wiping her tears away.
“Everyone needs kindness. As a doctor, kindness and compassion go with my job. I am human too. My job opens the door for me to do many things out of the goodness of my heart. I never miss an opportunity. I also keep the door open because I never know who is coming through!”
Don’t miss an opportunity to be kind. Keep that door open because you never know who might come in!
For 2022, MAKE KINDNESS A MISSION!
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