Driving separate cars with a boy in each, we left our home for the Christmas Eve experience at our church less than 48 hours ago. Not necessarily decked out in my nice clothes, but definitely a little more jazzed up than my usual Wal-Mart attire, I was ready for an hour full of amazing music and a message to keep me centered on the reason we celebrate this season. Before we even hit the stop sign at Midwest and Waterloo, there was a delay. Not sure, at first, what it was, I inched up further along on the asphalt to take a gander. And what to my wondering eyes did appear? A stalled SUV with flashers blaring as if to say, “Will somebody please help me?” Car by car made their detour around the man and woman as they frantically attempted to turn the key over just one more time. Now it was my turn. With my soon-to-be 10-year old in my car learning from my every move, I had to decide: Do I go around this hindrance in order to make sure that my nicely pressed outfit would remain in tact for the church service I was headed to? Or do I toss the plans out the proverbial window in order to be a Samaritan to someone I may never see again? Rolling down my window, I yelled to the distraught woman, “Do you need some help?” Her affirmative reply was followed by a sigh of partial relief. Shortly after that, I whipped my Honda Pilot around and pointed my hood to theirs as the handsome hubby worked his magic with our old set of jumper cables. “Give it some gas,” he hollered to me. Nothin’. Continuing to apply my three-inch black heel to the accelerator, I started to pray, “Father, please help this couple. Help their car to start so that they can get home. Help them…” Vroom, vroom, vroom. “Thank you so much for your help,” the man said. “And Merry Christmas!” Quietly watching the entire occurrence, Noah said, “That was nice.” I agreed with him and told him that I could have just driven around them to make sure that we wouldn’t miss church because we wanted to worship Jesus. “I think Jesus wanted us to help them more than he wanted us to go to church today, Mom,” came his wise reply. With tears beginning to sting my baby blues, I nodded and said, “I couldn’t agree more.” Thank you, Heavenly Father, for allowing us the oppportunity to be your hands and feet. And for creating a tender heart in our sons that will know how to love you by loving others.