Jack was a truck driver and had a good salary, so when the babies were born, it was easy for Rachel to quit her job to take care of them. But something changed, and Rachel felt lost.

One day, Jack left early for work and didn’t return. That same night, Rachel received a call from the police informing her that he had died in a truck accident. Jack was gone, and she would have to assume the role of head of the family.

One day, she was in a supermarket buying things for her children’s birthday, but the prices made her frown.

“When did the price of cocoa powder go up? $5 for a small one?! Ugh, I haven’t even bought half the things yet and it’s already $50! Oh my god! I have to return some things.”

She headed to the next aisle just as one of her sons, Max, started insisting she buy him candy. “Mom! Will you buy me some candy, please? Please?”

“Oh, honey!” Rachel paused.

“Sweets aren’t good for you. Doctors say sweets damage your teeth. Besides, they’re kind of expensive, and Mom has to bake a cake for your birthday, so she’ll have to buy the ingredients.”

But the four-year-old boy didn’t understand. He started crying loudly, which caught the attention of some shoppers. “No, Mommy! I want it! I WANT CANDY!”

“Yes, Mom! We want candy too! PLEASE!” shouted the other four children in unison.

“How hard is it to check prices before buying something?” grumbled the cashier, Lincy.

“You’re $10 short, so I’ll have to take some things from here.”

She picked up the chocolate cookies, the chocolate bars, and some other things and started preparing the bill, but Rachel stopped her.

“Oh, please, don’t take those things away. Hmm… let’s do this. I’ll take away the bread and…” Rachel began selecting the things she was going to take away.

Sometimes help can come from unexpected places.

Image for illustrative purposes only.
He was out for a walk when he encountered an elderly woman.

“Hello, young man! I’m Mrs. Simpson. What’s your name? And what are you doing here all alone?” she asked kindly, smiling at him.

—Hello, Mrs. Simpson. I’m Max and I’m four years old. How old are you?

The older woman blushed. “I’m a bit older than you, Max. Let’s say I’m seventy. Where’s your mother?”

“Mom is fighting with someone. She says Mom doesn’t have enough money and we have to leave some things here.”

“Oh, really?” Mrs. Simpson asked, worried. “Can you take me to your mom?”

“Look, woman! If you can’t afford these things, don’t even come! Move it! There are other customers waiting their turn!”

“No, please wait…” Rachel had just begun to speak when a voice interrupted her.

“There’s no need to remove those items. Your bill is already covered!” 

“Oh, no, please,” Rachel interjected. “I’m afraid I can’t accept it. Okay.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” the older woman insisted, and Rachel finally gave in.

As they paid their bills and left the store, Rachel kept thanking him.

“Thank you so much for helping us. I’m sorry I can’t pay you right now, but please come and visit us anytime. Here’s my address,” she said, handing him a note with her handwritten address. “I’d love to invite you for tea and biscuits. I make delicious biscuits.”

The boys waved to her, and Rachel was puzzled when Mrs. Simpson mentioned Max’s name. “Do you know Mrs. Simpson, honey?” she asked Max gently.

“Yes, Mom! I told her you were fighting, so she helped you.”

“Oh, how cute!” thought Rachel as she walked back to her car.

The next day, there was a knock at her door. “Oh, Mrs. Simpson! Please come in. You’re just in time! I just baked some cookies,” Rachel said, gesturing for her to enter.

When the older woman sat down, Rachel brought her some biscuits and a cup of tea.

“Oh, you didn’t have to go to so much trouble,” she replied, reaching for the teacup.

“Do you live alone with your children?”

“Actually, my husband passed away last year, so I’ve been raising my children alone. Unfortunately, I’m not working right now, so money is tight. I had a small business selling sweaters and wool hats, but nobody buys them in the summer, and I’m still looking for work.”

—In that case, why don’t you come with me to my clothing store? —the older woman suggested.

I need a caregiver, and I would love for it to be you. Don’t worry, I can take care of your children. My husband passed away many years ago, and we never had children. So I’m an elderly woman counting down the days until God calls me home.

“Of course, Mrs. Simpson!” Rachel said, wiping away her tears. She started working at Mrs. Simpson’s store the next day, worked hard for months on end, and was promoted to supervisor.

When she showed Mrs. Simpson her design samples one day, the older woman recommended that she start a side business and encouraged her to share some of her work on social media.