I was desperate. My washing machine had quit right in the middle of a load of clothes I was planning to pack up and take on vacation, and I couldn’t get anyone to repair it before we left.
“Come out today?” asked the sixth repairman I called. “You’ve got to be kidding!”
If only Dad were here now. He could fix anything. But my father had passed away recently. Lord, help me get along without him, I prayed. I then tried one last number. “I’ll be right over,” the repairman said once I explained to him how dire my predicament was.
True to his word, he showed up half an hour later. I couldn’t thank him enough for bailing me out.
“I know what it’s like,” he said. “Once, I’d been laid off and we were down to our last dime, with nothing to feed the kids. All morning I drove around town looking for a job. Finally I saw a man working on a fence. He said, ‘If you help me finish this, I’ll give you half the pay.’ Thanks to him, my kids had a good meal that night.”
After the repairman finished his work and the washing machine was running again, he mused, “I always wanted to be able to do something for that man, T. E. Cox.”
“You just did,” I said, amazed. “I’m his daughter.”
