Life can be tough and challenging sometimes. We all go through hard times sooner or later, and in those moments, love often gives us the strength and comfort we need. Small acts of kindness, whether from friends, family, or even strangers, can work wonders.
This story shows just that. Though I can’t say for sure if it’s true, I have a strong feeling it is. But what really matters is the message, which we can all learn from.
It all started one morning in September 1960. I woke up with just 75 cents in my pocket and six hungry kids. Their dad had passed away. My daughter was two, and the boys ranged from three months to seven years old.
Their father had always been a source of fear for them. They would run and hide under their beds whenever they heard his tires crunching on the gravel road.
He used to set aside $15 a week for groceries. With him gone, there would be no more beatings, but also no food. I had no idea about any welfare system in southern Indiana at that time. So, I cleaned up the kids until they were spotless, put on my best homemade dress, packed them into our run-down 1951 Chevy, and set out to look for work.
We went to every factory, shop, and restaurant in our small town, but had no luck. The kids stayed quiet in the car while I tried to convince anyone who would listen that I was willing to learn and do anything. I needed a job.
Finally, the last place we visited was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been turned into a truck stop just outside of town. It was called The Big Wheel. The place was owned by an old lady named Granny, who occasionally peeked out the window at all the kids.
She needed someone for the graveyard shift, from eleven at night till seven in the morning. She said I could start that night and she’d pay sixty-five cents an hour. I rushed home and called a teenage girl who babysat for people down the street.
I convinced her to sleep on my couch for a dollar a night. The kids would already be asleep when she got there, even if she was still in her pajamas. She thought it was a good deal, so we made an arrangement.
That evening, during our prayer time, the kids and I thanked God for getting Mommy a job. And so, I started working at The Big Wheel.
Every morning, I’d wake the babysitter up and give her a dollar from my tips, which was half of what I usually made each night. But as weeks went by, my small paycheck became harder to stretch, especially with heating costs.
The old Chevy’s tires started leaking and were as thin as penny balloons. Every morning, before going to work and before heading home, I had to pump them up.
One gloomy October morning, after a long night shift, I dragged myself to the car and found four brand-new tires in the back seat. There was no note, no sound—just those beautiful, new tires. I wondered if angels had come to Indiana.
I made a deal with the local service station. I’d clean his office in exchange for him putting the new tires on my car. I remember scrubbing his floor for much longer than it took him to change the tires.
Even though I was now working six nights a week instead of five, it still wasn’t enough. I knew there wouldn’t be any money left for Christmas presents for the kids.
I found an old can of red paint and started fixing up some old toys. I hid them in the basement, so Santa would have something to bring on Christmas morning. Clothing was another worry. The boys’ pants were getting too worn out to patch.
On Christmas Eve, the regulars at The Big Wheel were sipping coffee—Joe, a state trooper, and the truck drivers Les, Frank, and Jim. A few musicians were playing pinball after their performance at the Legion. The regulars hung out until the early hours of the morning, then left to make it home before dawn.
When it was time for me to leave at seven on Christmas morning, I was amazed to see my old, beat-up Chevy completely packed with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly unlocked the driver’s side door, scrambled inside, and knelt in front of the back seat.
I opened the top box and found a whole case of new blue jeans in sizes 2–10! Another box had matching shirts. I peeked into more boxes and found bags of groceries, chocolates, nuts, bananas, canned vegetables, potatoes, and a big ham to bake.
There was pie filling, pudding, Jell-O, cookies, and flour. One bag was full of cleaning and laundry supplies. There was even a beautiful doll and five toy trucks.
As I drove back through the quiet, deserted streets, the sun slowly rising on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I cried tears of gratitude. I will never forget the joy on my children’s faces that wonderful morning.
Yes, angels were in Indiana that December long ago. And they all gathered at The Big Wheel truck stop.
