Time was always tight in the morning when I got my fourth grader, Katie, ready for school. Today she had to be there early, so our schedule was even tighter. We had to leave at 6:00 a.m. if we wanted to get from New Canaan, Connecticut, to Katie’s school in Greenwich on time.
“I just hope we don’t hit traffic,” I told Katie as we left the house.
I looked at my watch as we approached the highway. We were cutting it close. “Better take the back roads,” I said, driving past the entrance. I glanced at the gas gauge: It was low, but I was certain I had enough to get us to school and I certainly didn’t have time to stop at a gas station.
I’d been driving for about 25 minutes when the car slowed down–and then stopped. “What’s happening?” asked Katie.
“We ran out of gas. Wait here.” I opened my door and got out. There wasn’t a car in sight. So much for being early, I thought. And then a truck came along.
“Hop in and I’ll take you to a gas station,” the driver offered. He seemed nice enough, but I couldn’t get in a car with a stranger. Especially not with Katie. Ten more minutes passed. Lord, I’m in a real jam!
Another truck came along, full of landscaping equipment. This one had two men in it. “How can we help?” the driver asked. I explained our situation. “We’ll get gas for you at the station up the road and come right back,” he said. When they returned they filled my tank.
“What do I owe you?” I asked.
“Nothing,” said the driver. “It’s our pleasure.” It was then that I noticed the company logo on his shirt: Gardening Angels. Katie got to school early–thanks to some gardeners who arrived right on time.
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