The Nudge I Almost Ignored

Anonymous, 1st Place Winner (post-secondary), Beyond the System Writing Contest

I had been staring at the same pile of returns for days that I had been neglecting to take care of. I know I need to take care of them but it is harder to leave the house these days. I’ve fallen into a hole and found that it is hard to dig myself out this time. I didn’t want to go anywhere. I hadn’t wanted to for months. For some reason this particular day I could not ignore the voice anymore. It wasn’t loud but it was firm; go. I dragged myself out the door without any urgency. My plan was to make these returns and come back home. The air was cool and still carried the scent of the essence of recent rain. I climbed inside the car shutting the door with a heavy thud. Momentarily I just sat there resting my hands on the steering wheel, gathering myself. The familiar surge of anxiety was trying to completely consume me, but I pushed through it. I started the engine and rolled slowly through the apartment complex. As I drove, I could hear the crunch of dried leaves and bits of debris beneath my tires. I don’t know if it was my mood influencing things or the winter weather but everything around me was muted. The worn apartment buildings, the cracked pavement, the drooping trees everything seemed washed out and tired similarly to how I’d been feeling inside. I was nearing the exit gate of my apartment complex when something caught my eye. Near the dumpsters, sat a battered, faded sedan. Its dull paint was chipped and rusted in several spots, the bumper was cracked and seemed to be hanging on by a thread. One of their side mirrors was completely missing. The hood was open exposing a dusty engine with jumper cables hanging down the front. But what struck me the most was the inside of the car. Through the grimy windows, I could see every inch of the interior was filled not just cluttered but overwhelmed with trash, old fast-food bags, empty water bottles, crumpled clothing, and what looked like someone's entire life stuffed into one small space. Blankets, plastic bags of belongings, and even a few tools all jumbled together in chaotic piles. It wasn’t just a car. It looked like a shelter, a storage unit, maybe even a last resort.

There stood a man, hunched slightly as he wrestled with jumper cables. His clothes were worn thin, he wore a tattered and stained white beater t-shirt, the fabric clung loosely to his frame, exposing arms darkened by the sun and streaked with grime. His jeans were sagging and stiff with dirt. His shoes were worn down to the sole and the laces were caked with dirt. He looked dirty. Not from neglect but from life. The kind of dirt that comes from sleeping in your car, from spending long days outside with nowhere to go and no one looking out for you. His face was lined with deep creases, the kind you get from years of hardship not just age. His skin was weathered. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my eyes flicked back towards the exit. Every part of me wanted to keep driving. I had my own problems and my own pain. But as I saw that he struggled with the cables a feeling of sadness started to overcome me. Deep down I knew the truth that nobody was coming to help him. Most people would see him; the busted car, the dirt, the rough edges and pretend not to. They would drive by without a second thought just like I almost did. Then clearly and steadily as if someone was sitting next to me I heard God tell me to stop and also to give him the brand new portable battery jumper I just bought like a month or so ago. God whispered that it wasn’t just about helping him now but also to make sure he wouldn’t have to worry again. That he wouldn’t be stuck waiting on the mercy of strangers who might never come. I quickly swerved into a parking space behind his car. I got out and asked if he needed help. He turned to face me, almost timidly. His voice was soft, almost apologetic as he explained that his battery was completely dead. He said he just needed a jump , nothing more. I told him I had something better, a portable jumper that could start his car without needing another vehicle. I popped my trunk and pulled it out and handed it to him. I explained it was brand new and he should test it to make sure it worked. He carefully hooked it up. Within seconds, the engine coughed and sputtered, coming to life.

He looked over at me, gratitude flooding his face. He started thanking me but before he could finish his words, I interrupted gently. I told him I wanted him to keep the jumper and that I didn’t want him to get stuck like this again. For a moment he just stared at me. Then he looked upwards towards the sky, his face breaking with emotion. Tears started streaming down his face. It wasn’t just relief, it was a raw, overwhelming gratitude, the kind you offer when you know no one but God could have sent you the help you needed. At that moment I told him, “God told me to stop for you, God’s got you”. I got back into my car watching him from my review mirror as he wiped his face looking up towards the sky. I drove away but that humbling spiritual moment never left me. It helped me realize that even though my own situation wasn’t perfect, even if I was battling things I didn’t want to carry I had so much to be grateful for. I had a roof over my head. I had a car that worked. I had a chance to give, even when I felt like I had nothing left. So many people had it harder than I could even imagine. It also taught me to trust that small voice inside the one that pushes you to do good, even when you’re tired or unsure. More than anything, it was a reminder that God can use us to help others in the most unexpected and unusual ways even on days when we feel broken ourselves.