The downtown is decorated for Christmas. There are red ribbons, wreaths on doors, there’s a big tree on the square.
This is a small town. If you were to get a running start, you could toss a football from one side to the other.
She’s a phlebotomist at the doctor’s office. She handles needles, blood, patients. She’s your quintessential small-town girl. Pretty. Smart. Never met a stranger.
She has three teenagers. She loves sports. She is a Florida Gators fan—bless her heart.
Not long ago, Christy met a woman, walking on the side of the road.
She stopped the car. She gave her a ride.
The woman was down on her luck. She told Christy about herself. It was the same sad story you’ve probably heard before.
Imagine: you’re a hard working couple who can’t seem to make ends meet. Times get hard. Money runs out. So does good fortune.
The lights get shut off. And just when things can’t get worse, they do. Your car breaks down and becomes a steaming pile of horse fertilizer.
Your two-year-old and newborn are hungry. Food gets expensive. You’re doing everything you can to keep your family from losing weight.
It was almost too much for Christy to hear.
The woman said her husband had been walking to work ever since the car broke down.
The woman had been scraping pennies together to buy dried goods from the Dollar General store.
Christy had heard enough.
She called her friend, Brandi. Together they decided to do something. Christy posted a plea for help online. Her request was straightforward:
“If anyone has any suggestions, contact me…”
Did they ever.
The offers started flooding in after a few minutes. Her phone nearly exploded. People offered rides, groceries, gifts, diapers, toys, baskets, clothes.
And, even though I can’t be certain, I’d bet my life that there were at least a few foil-covered casseroles donated by sweet old ladies with double first names.
Maybe even a poundcake or two.
And money. Some gave a few bucks. Some gave hundreds. And it kept coming. Checks, Visa giftcards, Walmart giftcards, cash.
And it wasn’t just dollars and cents. It was “Can I give you a ride somewhere?” Or, “Do you need help with your kids?” Or “I’m here whenever you need me.”
People who didn’t have things to donate, donated anyway.
It took two days.
Two days to help a working-class family catch up on bills. Two days to make sure they can pay rent.
Two days to earn enough to buy a decent car. Two days to pay tags and registration. Two days to gather enough donations for six months of auto insurance. Two days to make sure the woman’s kids get a decent Christmas.
Two damn days.
Christy thanked folks for contributions by saying, “Thank you for reaching into your pockets and giving to someone you don’t know. You have blessed me…”
Well, if you ask me, she got it all wrong. The blessing wasn’t Walmart gift cards, a new vehicle, gift baskets, or covered casserole dishes.
It was a young mother who stopped the car and offered a ride to a stranger.
God bless Christy Turner.
And may God bless the people of Andalusia, Alabama.