Mary stood at the checkout counter, her cheeks burning red as she patted her purse one last time. Empty. No wallet. She had forgotten it in her friend John’s car.
“Oh, geez. I must have left my wallet in John’s car. I’m so sorry. I’ll have to come back for these things later,” Mary said apologetically to the cashier.
The cashier gave her a polite smile and started putting the groceries back on the shelves. Mary sighed and closed her purse, ready to leave empty-handed.
But suddenly, a young voice behind her spoke.
“Wait, ma’am! You don’t have many things anyway. I’ll pay for them,” said the boy standing in line.
Mary turned and saw a kid who couldn’t have been older than twelve. He didn’t look like he came from a wealthy family, and that made his offer even more surprising.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t put you out like that,” Mary quickly replied, shaking her head.
But the boy insisted. “I insist, ma’am. Sometimes, we have to do good things, and karma will reward us later, right? That’s what my grandmother always says.”
Before Mary could say anything else, he put his small stack of groceries on the belt and paid for both his items and Mary’s. Luckily, she only had some essentials, ingredients to make soup for her daughter.
Mary’s daughter, Anastacia, was sick with the flu. Her husband was away in Europe for work, so Mary had come to Santa Ana from San Diego to stay with her. John, her friend, had given her a ride up there—and apparently, her wallet was still sitting in his car.
Outside the store, Mary turned to the boy with a grateful smile.
“Hey, I’m Mary Cummings. What’s your name?” she asked warmly.
“I’m Mark,” the boy replied.
“Thank you so much for what you did, Mark. You saved me a trip. Listen, why don’t you give me your phone number so I can pay you back as soon as I get my wallet?” Mary suggested.
Mark scribbled his number on the back of the receipt. “Here, but don’t worry about it. There’s no rush. I live nearby anyway.”
“Although I also believe in paying it forward like you and your grandma, we have to pay our debts,” Mary insisted. They said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.
That night, while chopping vegetables for chicken noodle soup, Mary told Anastacia the whole story.
“You should have seen him. Just a little boy, yet he stepped up without thinking twice,” Mary said.
Anastacia smiled from the couch, wrapped in a blanket. “That’s rare nowadays. A lot of kids only think about themselves. He sounds special.”
“I don’t think he comes from money either,” Mary added thoughtfully. “That’s why I’m worried. What if he needed that money badly?”
The next day, John returned her wallet. Mary wasted no time—she called Mark, told him she wanted to return the money, and asked for his address.
When Mary and Anastacia arrived at his home, they noticed right away that the house was small and old, but neat. The garden was well kept, and the place looked loved, even if money was tight.
Mark opened the door with a shy smile. “Hello, Mrs. Cummings.”
“Hey, Mark! This is my daughter, Anastacia. Here’s your money. Again, thank you so much for everything,” Mary said kindly.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to hurry,” he said, pocketing the money. He glanced nervously inside. “I’d invite you in, but… my grandma doesn’t like me having people over. She’d be upset.”
“Oh? Where is she?” Anastacia asked gently. “We were just about to go to the bakery. Does she like pecan pie? Maybe we could bring her some.”
Mark hesitated, then lowered his head. “She’s at the hospital. She needs a big surgery. I made a GoFundMe, but… it’s not getting much attention. For now, the hospital is keeping her while I try to raise the money.”
Anastacia’s heart ached. “Sweetheart, you shouldn’t have to carry this alone.”
“We don’t have anyone else. It’s just us,” Mark shrugged, trying to sound tough.
Mary and Anastacia exchanged a look. No words were needed—they both knew what to do.
“Give us the GoFundMe link and your grandma’s name,” Mary said firmly. “Also, you’re coming with us to the bakery. Let’s go visit her with pie. Maybe the doctor will let her have some.”
Mark’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? You don’t have to—”
“We have to,” Anastacia interrupted gently but firmly.
They bought pies and went straight to the hospital, where they met Mark’s grandmother, Mrs. Julie Strada. She was frail but kind, and her eyes lit up when she saw the pies. They stayed for a while, talking and laughing, before leaving Mark to spend the night with her.
Back at home, Anastacia pulled up the GoFundMe page. She donated a few hundred dollars right away, then shared the link with all her friends and contacts.
Mary, however, felt restless. “They need so much money… $230,000. Sharing the link won’t be enough,” she sighed.
“Wait,” Anastacia said suddenly, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “What if we share Mark’s story? How he helped you, even when his family needed the money so badly. People need to hear this. It could go viral.”
Mary shook her head doubtfully. “That’s a one-in-a-million chance, Anastacia.”
“We’ll see,” Anastacia replied, determined. She posted their story on Reddit, Twitter, and anywhere else she could.
At first, only a few comments trickled in. But within days, thousands of people had read the post. Donations started pouring in. The total climbed higher and higher—but they were still short of the massive goal.
Then, something incredible happened. A major news outlet picked up the story. They interviewed both Mary and Mark, publishing an article about the boy who gave away $20 to a stranger, only to have the kindness return to him in ways he never imagined.
The GoFundMe didn’t just reach its $230,000 target—it went beyond. People from all over the world donated.
When Mark saw the final number, he was stunned. “I… I can’t believe this,” he whispered. “All I did was pay for some soup ingredients.”
Mary smiled at him, tears in her eyes. “That’s the thing, Mark. Helping others always comes back around.”
Lesson of the story:
- A small act of kindness can change everything.
- Mark thought he was helping with something tiny, but it opened the door to saving his grandmother’s life.
- And in a world that sometimes feels selfish, stories like this remind us—there are still good, generous people everywhere.