Last night, after working two exhausting 14-hour shifts, I stopped by a grocery store to pick up something simple for dinner. I was tired, running on fumes, and honestly just ready to get home. This wasn’t even my usual Walmart—I rarely shop there—but for some reason, that night, I did.
While waiting in line at the checkout, I noticed a woman in the next lane quietly crying. Her young daughter stood beside her, confused and concerned, and gently asked, “Mom, what’s wrong?”
The mother, trying not to break down, answered in a voice heavy with pain,
“We can’t afford to eat tonight.”
My heart dropped.
A kind person standing behind her reached into their pocket and handed her a few dollars. The woman thanked them and used that small amount to buy her daughter a single Kids Cuisine TV dinner—just enough for her child to eat, even if it meant she would go without.
I couldn’t stand there and do nothing.
I stepped forward and said to her,
“Please, grab whatever you need. I’ll pay for it.”
She looked at me like she didn’t quite understand at first—like hope felt unfamiliar in that moment. Then the tears came again, this time mixed with relief. She thanked me over and over as she added real food to her cart—food for her family, not just a single meal for her child.
As I walked out of the store later, something stayed with me. I truly believe I was meant to be there at that exact moment. I don’t believe in coincidences. I believe God puts us where we need to be, exactly when we need to be there.
Last night, He put me in that Walmart—not for groceries, but for compassion.
And I’m grateful I listened.