Random Acts of Kindness: Nancy and $20

Random Acts of Kindness Blog Fest

Standing in a long queue at the pharmacy is always stressful.  It often seemed to Nancy as she needed medication for shingles and was at the end of an emotional tether, all the people ahead of her needed so much. 

Some needed translations into Spanish.  Some needed calls made to their doctors.  Some elderly people needed a multitude of help.

Source: COBRA Soft

Nancy needed to return home; shingles was eating up any energy she had.  But she would not give up her spot in the line, since she was the next person up, after a frail old woman finished talking with the pharmacy technician.  Nancy gritted her teeth, and then overheard the old woman speaking.

“That much?  It costs that much?”  She opened her wallet.  “I don’t have enough…I guess I will have to wait until next week to pick this prescription up…”

Source: bies

The technician explained to her that the doctor said she needed to start taking this prescription today.  The woman stepped away and said she would have to think about what she could give up today, so she could buy the medicine.

Nancy took her place in front of the technician.  Impulsively, Nancy leaned in and whispered, “How much does that woman need to pay for that prescription?”

The technician hesitated, but leaned forward and whispered, “About fifteen dollars.” 

Nancy checked her purse.  She had a five, three ones, and one twenty dollar bill.  She pulled out the twenty.  “Here…I’ll pay for her prescription, but you can’t tell her who gave the money.”

Surprised, the technician took the money.  As Nancy left the counter and walked through the store, she heard the elderly woman called over the speaker.  Then she heard the woman exclaim.  Relief was in her voice.

Nancy smiled.  She needed to hear that.

This is a true story.  I was there.  With my shingles.

Special for Special

Oh, I could have used this jar of change!

When we were young parents with three small children, we were always struggling with finances.  ‘Struggling’ is a mild word, for I was doing down-right brutal, in-the-mud, hand-to-hand battle with money, or the lack of it. 

I was frugal, careful with every penny.    I was so frugal that I would stop in the middle of a roasting parking lot in 114 degrees to pick up a flattened penny. 

It was about the end of the month that I noticed that our 2 ½ year old son, Johnny, was walking slowly and seemed to have problems with his feet. 

The GP doctor said that his feet were pronating which means… 

to turn into a prone position; to rotate (the hand or forearm) so that the surface of the palm is downward or toward the back; to turn (the sole of the foot) outward so that the inner edge of the foot bears the weight when standing.  

Laces on, tie shoes; untie shoes, look for shoes

He sent us to an orthopedic doctor who would diagnose and write a prescription for special shoes.

Centipede from James and the Giant Peach

Specialty doctor?  Special shoes?  Money, where would we get the money?

Somehow, God provided, and we brought home the ugliest shoes a boy has had to wear from Stride Rite shoe store (good store, by the way).  They were brown leather, laced up over the ankle, and the sole had been adjusted for Johnny’s feet.  Putting them on and off reminded me of the centipede in James and the Giant Peach.  They cost $85.

 That may not sound like a fortune now, but in 1981 when the mortgage rates were 16.5% and we had no money, it was a fortune.

 Needless to tell any mother out there, boys misplace everything.  Everything.  At the end of the first day after bath time, the shoes were somewhere.  My oldest daughter found them, and I talked straight into Johnny’s face about where the shoes would/should go each time he took them off.  He nodded, as if he understood a word I had said.

 For the next two days, we played hide-and-seek­ with these shoes made of gold.  Finally at the end of the third day, I pulled Johnny up into my lap, and gave him the shoes, telling him (with tears in my eyes) that these shoes were made especially for HIM, because he was so special.  With big eyes and a solemn nod, he went off to bed.

 Before I turned in, I decided to make sure the shoes were where they were supposed to be, and they were not.  Growing more and more frantic, I searched the house with my husband.  We looked everywhere, no shoes.

 I was ready to burst into Johnny’s room and wake him up, to ask him where the shoes were.  I opened the door and walked in.  What I saw changed my whole perspective.

 Johnny was lying on his back with that soft kissable baby face.  Tucked under each arm was a shoe, with his special arms tightly wrapped around those special shoes. 

 I kissed his rosy cheeks and brushed back his hair.  God bless this child!  I tiptoed out.