I’ve had Mitzi’s blue vest in the back of my van for months. I had a few of her sweaters and things that Gary was sorting through to donate and I knew someone her size who would appreciate them so I delivered them a while back. But I forgot the vest, so it has sat in my car for months. Every time I see it, a pile of pictures run through my mind of times on our adventures when she wore it. Tonight, when the temp dipped down pretty low, I got my scarf out of the back of my van and noticed the vest. I stuck it in the front seat and thought maybe I would just leave it somewhere and hope the right person who needed it would pick it up.
I was almost home and I hadn’t seen an appropriate spot to leave the vest yet. Then, literally right where I had to turn off of the main road to get home, I saw the strangest sight moving along the side of a very busy section of A1A. When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a large Craftsman tool chest being pushed from the rear by a little old driver, so slight yet so quick, I knew in an instant it must be…someone who needed help?
I got out of my car and cautiously approached this woman, but kept my distance so she didn’t feel threatened. She seemed very clean and totally perplexed that I got out of my car. I asked if she needed help. She insisted she didn’t. She said she just had to get her husband’s tools to her storage unit. It wasn’t far, she assured me. She said her husband had died in 2007 waiting for a kidney transplant. Then she lived with her mother until her death last year. The tools were being kept at a friend’s house, but the friends told her they couldn’t keep them any longer and she needed to get them out or they’d get rid of them. She tried to call a “flatbed company” but they wanted $80 to pick up the tools. So she parked her car and started pushing the heavy cart with cumbersome casters down the main thoroughfare of the beach. I got the sense these weren’t just tools to her, but an emotional connection to her husband.
I offered to help numerous times or call my husband to help but she adamantly insisted she didn’t want to infringe on my night but thanked me.
I remembered the vest on my front seat.
I mentioned how cold it was and that I would love it if she would take this vest to keep her warm.
She refused. Reluctantly, I took no for an answer. I could tell she was not used to people offering help for no reason. And sometimes, you just have to respect a person’s distrust.
I drove home. My oldest son, who is 13, was waiting for me outside. On a whim, I told him to jump in. I explained my encounter and drove a few blocks down to see if we could find her. We did. She was struggling as she tugged that tool chest, headed south over the bumpy asphalt. It irked me that I knew she wouldn’t let me help her, so I took Conner to get a milkshake to pass some time. Afterwards, we drove south and found her. In 20 minutes, she’d only gone 2.5 blocks. She was having such a hard time keeping the wheels going straight. I felt very comfortable that she wasn’t dangerous, so I pulled over and stayed in the car as I let Conner offer to help. She again refused.
I parked the car and locked it. I walked over to her. I introduced myself and my son. I told her God kept tugging on my heart to help her, and to keep offering until she let me. I told her I make it a point to try and listen to those promptings because I know they’re coming straight from the top. She quit refusing at that point. She told me she had a long way to go to get to her storage unit and it closes at 10pm. It was 8:15pm. So Conner pushed, I pulled, and I started talking to her about the weather, my husband and boys, and Mitzi. It was so much harder than I thought to pull this chest. It had tools in it. The drawers kept opening when the road was at the right angle. Cars honked. I had to be mindful not to go too fast to run over her feet, which were in thick socks and slippers.
She told me multiple things 3-4 times, and talked about the saga of her husband’s kidney battle in such a way that it was obvious there was emotional trauma from the event. They had been married 26 years. She has a job. That was obvious because she still had her work name tag on. She said she has a car. I’m not sure. She says she has some family but doesn’t see them often. She wouldn’t tell me where she lived. I didn’t press. We’ve volunteered with a fantastic organization here in town that keeps homeless families together to get them back on their feet. I knew from working with them that often people will live in storage units if they have no other option. Conner pushed the heavy cart from behind, taking this all in. After over an hour, and getting close to the storage place, she became very insistent that she could take it from there. I assumed she didn’t want us to see she might be actually going “home.” I hugged her and told her Merry Christmas. She thanked us profusely. Conner and I turned and walked away.
We got to a Publix and I called my husband to come pick us up. I cannot imagine what was going through his head as I explained in bits and pieces. I soooo don’t think I am the wife he thought he was signing up for nearly 17 years ago! While he was en route, Conner and I bought a bottle of water and a Publix gift card. We asked Ray to help us try to find her to give them to her. I also wanted him to see she wasn’t a maniac. He was afraid we had been accomplices to her stealing a tool chest. As I later explained to my boys, whatever she was doing says something about her character, and how we responded says something about ours. We found her struggling about a block from where we left her. Ray got out and tried to help but that scared her. Conner gave her the gift card and water. She reluctantly accepted. We could see the storage unit company about another block away. So we left her.
The kids wanted to do more but I explained that sometimes you can only help people so much. You’re called to do what you can. And sometimes that’s enough. We had helped her pull her tool chest down a busy road for an hour. And then gave her a gift card for food. We had fulfilled our assignment. Ray dropped me off at my car where Mitzi’s blue vest still sat on the front seat. We came home to a warm condo, took hot showers, and crawled into comfortable beds. I truly hate to think it, but I don’t think our newfound friend did the same.
As I write this, my mind keeps drifting back to Mitzi’s blue vest on the seat outside in my van and how it didn’t get to serve the purpose it should have on this cold night…or maybe, in some small way, it did…????
(PS: If there was a toolbox theft of some sort tonight, we are so sorry! This was, by far, one of the weirdest experiences I’ve ever had and her story was so believable that I’m hoping it was true). ????
