The gas pump was irritatingly slow; and for a mama with a rare hour to herself, I was not excited about how long it was taking to fill my tank. Using this opportunity to clean out the van, I stepped away to toss the trash, and he approached. “’Scuse me ma’am…” The young man couldn’t have been more than 15, rough in appearance, and his speech was difficult to understand.

Having been approached for money a thousand times, I knew what was coming—the request preceded by a story I’m hesitant to believe. I confess that my default reaction is defense, coupled with suspicion. It’s disconcerting to be approached in a parking lot, regardless of the stranger’s question. According to the boy, his dad ran out of gas and was stranded down the street. Stuck without two pennies to rub together, he wondered if I could help them with gas. The car and the boy’s father were nowhere in sight, but I’m sure my skepticism was in plain view.

I didn’t want to give him a cold shoulder, but I was hesitant.

Expressing regret at his situation, “Oh I’m sorry,” I truthfully concluded, “I don’t have cash on me.” However, my check card could have accommodated his need. Letting suspicion get the best of me, I quizzed, “Where’s your gas can?” If they’re out of gas, I thought, they should have a gas can.

“Right there, Ma’am,” the boy said as he gestured to a beat-up can next to a brick wall. Repeating my regret, I returned to the pump still trickling fuel into my vehicle. He moved to other customers, who turned him down without conversation.

I shook my head, examined my conscience, looked around… and my uneasiness vanished. I was in a safe, well-populated area in the middle of the day—hardly the setting for one to carry out ill intentions. I can’t number the occasions when my own needs received compassion from other people. In this life, there is no shortage of challenges and reminders that we can’t handle everything alone. I didn’t need to be so cautious against helping souls get through a speed bump in their day. Jesus compelled His disciples, “Whatever you did to the least of my brethren, you did it to me” (Mt. 25:40). What if it wasn’t a stranger, but Christ approaching me through this father and son?

Gazing across the pavement, I saw the boy joined by his father, who was on the phone. Taking my own turn to approach, I sheepishly gestured to the gas can, “Why don’t you let me fill that up?” The man’s concern brightened into a beautiful, broad smile that I will never forget. “We’ll be alright,” he said into the phone. “A lady’s about to help us!”

The father and I made our way to a presumably faster pump, making friendly small talk that morphed into a pleasant conversation. After a quick swipe of my card and a few minutes of chatting, I received the father’s grateful handshake before he walked away. A glance at his can as he departed revealed it was just under half full. He took what he needed with gratitude and zero advantage. I shook my head, embarrassed that I had hesitated to help.

YOU DID IT TO ME: Five powerful Christian words compel us to examine our motives and actions, to humble ourselves to realize there are needs greater than our wants. The Lord Himself showers us with mercy we don’t deserve, not to mention the occasions when we’ve been shown compassion ourselves. A few dollars, a gift of time or a lending hand are small sacrifices to make for our fellow man. Respond boldly and gladly to Christ’s invitation to serve as He serves and love as He loves.

Katie Sciba is a national speaker and Catholic Press Award- winning columnist. Katie has been married for 15 years and is blessed with six children.

This article appeared in the February 2025 edition of The Catholic Telegraph Magazine. For your complimentary subscription, click here