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Student Short Story, Second Prize

Acts of Kindness

Nancy Bonneau

The warm April sun caressed the ebony ribbon of Kansas highway. Reclining in the back seat of our Chevy Suburban, I watched our shadow fly beside us, skimming the grassy hillsides and gravel shoulder.

The shadow of our Suburban looked dwarfed in front of the 27 - foot travel trailer it pulled. But as traveling missionaries, this was our "home on wheels" - the only home we had.

In that trailer we carried all our earthly possessions. And with it my family crisscrossed the United States, visiting churches and ministering to pastors and congregations.

As the sun inched toward the middle of the sky, the heat grew more intense. I sighed, rolled down my window, and started writing a letter to a friend in New Mexico.

Mint-green monster

About halfway through writing the letter, I felt our car jerk violently. It left an ugly pen scrawl across my page.

"Dad!" I complained, glancing up.

Then I spotted a mint-green Ford F150 pickup beside us, forcing our Suburban off the road. My dad wrestled with the steering wheel, desperately trying to avoid the deep ditch. As the pickup inched closer, our Suburban fishtailed, sending our travel trailer swinging into oncoming traffic.

"Hang on!" Dad yelled.

Fear balled my stomach into knots as we plunged into the ditch. The brakes squealed loudly, and a moment of silence followed. Then we heard a sickening thud. We all turned around in unison.

Our trailer - our only home - lay on its side in the road. The trailer's body appeared mangled, and living room furniture protruded through the front wall.

Tears began to roll down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry, guys," Dad murmured, resting his head on the steering wheel. "As our trailer swung out, I saw the face of the driver in the car behind the pickup. He had a little car, and I knew that our trailer hitting him would kill him. So I had to swerve into the ditch."

Mom patted his shoulder. "You did the right thing."

As I wiped my eyes, I noticed that the mint-green pickup had stopped about 100 yards up the road. Dad saw it too and jumped out of our car. But just as he did, the pickup sped away.

People began stopping along the road. Most of them wanted to know if we were all right. A few took up the job of directing traffic because our capsized trailer blocked one whole lane. The manager of a nearby furniture warehouse offered to let us use his phone.

Within minutes the police arrived. Several hours of accident reports ensued, and finally a mammoth tow truck came and flipped our trailer onto its wheels. Then we were allowed a few minutes inside to gather what few belongings we could salvage.

The interior of the trailer looked like a disaster zone. The cabinets had been ripped from the walls, tossing their contents everywhere. An oversized bottle of ketchup had shattered, and red liquid dripped from the wallpaper. Cocoa powder and maple syrup clung to the torn upholstery of the dinette.

The water tanks under the trailer now took up residence in the middle of the floor. And clothes and books lay tattered and damp on the wet, sticky surface.

Miraculously, we each found a set of church clothes and pajamas. Gathering them up, we threw them into the Suburban. Then, with the help of several bystanders, we unhooked the crumpled trailer from our vehicle and watched it disappear on the heels of a giant tow truck.

Thank you

We arrived that evening at the church where my dad was supposed to minister the next day. The pastor, who'd expected us to provide our own lodging, listened to our story with concern. Then he sprang into action.

He put us up in the only hotel in that tiny town, provided us with food, and then called several of his church members. When we arrived at church the next morning, bags of clothes and baskets of food waited for us.

After the morning service we moved on to our next appointment - a church in a larger town, where we would conduct their evening service. Unaware that the pastor had already been alerted to our situation, Dad approached him to explain.

The pastor smiled. He'd already arranged for us to spend the night at the best hotel in town. And during the service he announced our predicament and took up a special offering. Money poured in, and several church members asked for the name of our hotel.

By the next morning bags of clothing and household supplies had been dropped off at the hotel lobby. And a woman who owned a boutique donated a new outfit for each of us. Another woman came to our room and handed us a brand-new curling iron.

"I bought it last week, but I never opened it," she told us. "I guess God knew you would need it more than I do."

Unexpected end

A few days later we got a call to come and clean out our trailer - a dirty and discouraging job. Most of our belongings had been destroyed, but some items were amazingly protected during the crash. For instance, our computer had landed on the couch, saving it from destruction. And we salvaged our television and microwave from the wreckage.

In the weeks and months that followed, the outpouring of blessings continued. When the insurance money proved insufficient to cover the cost of another used trailer, churches around the country sent us special offerings to help defray our expenses. And a church near Kansas City allowed us to stay in their church - owned apartment until we could get back on our feet.

Through this experience I realized that when tragedy strikes, we often question God. And it's easy to become discouraged. But as Romans 8:28 reminds us, "we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him."

From a wellspring of despair, God raised up fountains of blessings. And despite the thoughtless act of a reckless driver, God kept our lives moving on His path.