Sandy’s windshield wipers couldn’t keep up with the frantic pace of the torrential downpour of rain. She was just beginning to slow down and pull over unto the shoulder of the road when her BMW hydroplaned, spun, and landed in a ditch.
Although physically unharmed, her thoughts were racing at 100 miles-per-hour. She pulled her yellow rain poncho over her head and stumbled out of her car to examine the damage. Through the blinding raindrops, she could see that her rear tire was stuck deep in the mud. She forced her way back into the driver’s seat and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed the towing services emergency number only to see the words, “no signal.”
“Please God, send someone to help me,” she mumbled. The only thing to do now was just to sit and wait until someone appeared.
About two hours later, long after the rain had abated, an old weathered Ford truck appeared on this old desolate part of highway. A middle-aged man with bushy hair and beard emerged out of the truck door and walked over to her car. Sandy wondered whether to even roll down the window. She was afraid he was here to rob her, not help her. But what options did she really have.
“Ma’am, do you need my assistance?” he asked.
“It certainly appears that I do,” her voice quivered back.
“My name is Jack Ogden. I noticed that your rear tire is really stuck.”
She sputtered back, “I lost control of my car during the rainstorm, a couple hours back. I’m not from around here, so I had some problem maneuvering this stretch of road.”
“I’ll be right back after I get a couple things from my truck,” he said.
After what seemed like an eternity, he returned with a bag of kitty litter, a shovel, and a couple of small twigs. “Why don’t you go sit over yonder under that large Oak tree, while I rescue your car.”
Then the stranger took the shovel and removed some of the sludge around the tires, sprinkled the kitty litter behind and around the area, and placed a couple of branches beneath the tire treads. He then slid into the passenger seat and started the car.
Sandy watched as the car rocked back and forth a couple of times and finally tore free to the road’s surface.
“How much do I owe you?” Sandy asked.
“Nothing,” Jack replied. “If you see someone else in need, just remember to repeat my kindness.”
After traveling about 30 miles, Sandy spotted a homemade sign for a lemonade stand—“Freshly squeezed” written with marker in childlike lettering. In a plastic white chair sat a brown-eyed, dark-haired boy, about 10 years old.
As she pulled to a stop, the boy limped to the door of the ranch style house and yelled, “Mom, we have a customer.”
Out walked a tall, elegant woman with a huge smile on her face. In her hands she carried a tray with a glass pitcher filled with frothy lemonade and a large red plastic cup.
“Hi,” the woman said as she introduced herself. “My name is Lucinda and this is my son, Timmy.”
“I am the one who squeezed all the lemons,” Timmy proudly announced. “It was really hard work.”
“I bet it was,” Sandy giggled back.
“I wanted to earn all the money to go to the Special Olympics by myself. Right mom.”
“That’s right, son.”
Lucinda leaned over and poured Sandy a glass of the lemonade.
“This is the best lemonade I have ever tasted,” Sandy exclaimed.
Sandy reached in her wallet and took out a ten dollar bill. Then when the mom went to get change, she scribbled a note on a napkin and got in her car and drove away.
Tears came to the mom’s eyes as she read the note: ‘This morning, I found myself in a jam with nowhere to turn. Please accept my gratitude for the best lemonade ever.’
Under the napkin were five $100.00 dollar bills.
How could this woman have ever known, that this was exactly the money that they needed.
**Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. (Luke 6:38 NIV)
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