What 3 Men and a Glenda taught me about doing the first KIND thing

“Hi, do you need some help?” That’s what I said to Glenda when I walked up to her stalled vehicle in the middle lane of an intersection.

Running late that morning, I had pulled up to Glenda’s red light with my mind focused on which lane would get me through the light fastest. I noticed her sitting in the car next to me, but then promptly hit the gas as the light turned green. As I passed her, I saw her car hadn’t moved, and traffic now struggled to get around her. In that moment of awareness, I felt a tap-tap on my shoulder and heard a still, small voice say, “Here’s what I would have you do.”

A U-turn sign immediately loomed in my field of vision. The instructions were clear. Sighing begrudgingly and knowing I would now be even later, I circled back to the intersection and pulled into a nearby driveway. I sauntered out to the middle lane in my pencil skirt and heels. I had no idea what kind of roadside assistance I might provide this woman. I have no experience helping stranded motorists or expertise in making auto repairs. But not once did I question whether I would be able to do this thing the universe put before me.

“Hi, do you need some help?” I asked as she rolled down the window. “Yes, please!” she said. “Something is wrong with my car, and I don’t have my phone with me to call anyone.”

I introduced myself, learned her name was Glenda, and promptly handed her my phone so she could call her daughter who worked nearby. No answer. I then suggested we try to move her car through the intersection and over to the curb where it was safer and out of the way. She agreed and waited for me to move it. “We” meant me.

Once again, I didn’t question. I did. God had brought me to Glenda’s aid for a reason. After pushing ineffectually for a minute on the side door, I moved to the back. I braced myself in the deepest lunge my work couture would allow and pushed with all my power.

I’ve heard stories of people accomplishing incredible feats of strength during times of need. This was not one of those times. Despite using all my physical strength, I moved Glenda’s car forward one meager inch - maybe less.

But my task in this situation was not to push Glenda’s car. Turns out, when men see a woman in heels and a fitted skirt trying to move a car by herself, they jump into action. Three knights in Ford-tough armor hopped down from two different trucks stopped at the intersection and rushed over to help.

“Ma’am, we’ve got this,” one of them told me as they easily jogged Glenda’s car through the intersection and over to the side like it weighed no more than a wheelbarrow.

I yelled, “Thank you!” as they ran back to their trucks smiling and waving. By this point, a policeman had seen these street antics and pulled over in front of Glenda’s car to assist her. Glenda thanked me and told me she was now in good hands. My “doing” here was done.

As I headed back to my car, I passed a woman and her dog out walking. “None of those men would have stopped to help her if you hadn’t done it first,” she said. “You did that.”

What if sometimes that’s all it takes? Be the one to do the first kind thing and start a chain reaction. At times, my ego (that rascal Gail) seduces me into thinking my purpose is to do big and important things to make an impact. Sure, big and important things may need me, but if I wait for those, I miss the thousand simple, small things You would have me do right now. The things right in front of me that spark joy, kindness, and connection in others.

When I watch and listen for those things, I find Glendas everywhere, all in need of just one person to do the first kind thing. Why not me?