I hadn’t ordered Chinese food, but the delivery man at the door insisted it was for me. When I brought the package inside and opened it, I found a scribbled note on the back of the receipt. At that moment, I had no idea what I would learn in the days to come.
Life as a single mother is a constant balancing act, one in which I was still learning to navigate. Some days I felt like I could barely keep my head above water. Other days, I was sure I was drowning.
But that night, with a surprise delivery and a mysterious message, something changed.
Single motherhood had become my reality two years ago, the day my husband packed his bags and left. He had chosen someone else, built a new life and left me to pick up the pieces.
At the time, I didn’t have time to wallow in grief. I had two little ones depending on me and I had to be strong for them.
Jamie was five years old, full of inexhaustible energy and questions about the world. Emily, my youngest daughter, was at that stage where silence often means disaster.
As a single mother, my days were a whirlwind of dropping them off at school, preparing lunch and spending every last dollar to make sure they had everything they needed.
Most nights I would crawl into bed exhausted, hoping to wake up with enough energy to do it all again.
That Thursday night was no different.
Jamie was sprawled across the living room floor, intensely focused on building a Lego tower.
Meanwhile, Emily had taken it upon herself to spread yogurt on the carpet, laughing at her masterpiece. I sighed and picked up a rag to clean up the mess, already imagining the long night ahead of me.
Then the doorbell rang.
I frowned and wiped my hands on my jeans. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I thought it was probably a delivery person or a neighbor who needed something.
I opened the door and saw a young man in a delivery uniform, holding a large paper bag with takeaway food in one hand and the phone in the other.
“Hello, am I delivering for Mrs. Carter?” he said, looking at the screen.
I blinked. “I think you have the wrong address.”
He hesitated and looked at the phone again. ‘It’s already been paid for. Are you sure you didn’t order it?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m sure.’
He frowned and shrugged. ”Well… no one’s going to take the number from the list. Better to enjoy the food.”
He handed me the bag, nodded and went to his car.
I stood there for a moment, confused, as the smell of sweet and sour chicken reached me, making my stomach rumble.
I took the bag inside and left it on the worktop.
Jamie looked up from his Legos. “Mom, what’s that?”
“Apparently, dinner,” I said, still baffled.
I reached in and pulled out a crumpled receipt. It was then that my gaze fell on the back of the receipt. There was a message written in neat, clean handwriting.
Sometimes life surprises us in a good way. Open your heart and goodness will come back to you.
I stared at it for a while, wondering who could have sent it to me, but my mind gave me no answer.
For some reason, I didn’t think much about it, and we all sat down to an unexpected banquet.
That night, for the first time in weeks, Jamie laughed uncontrollably when Emily tried to use the chopsticks as if they were drumsticks.
And so, for the first time in months, the tight knot of worry in my chest loosened a little.
The following weeks seemed different to me, almost as if there had been a change in the universe. Small acts of kindness continued to appear in my life, unexpected but perfectly timed.
One morning, as I was going out with my coffee, I noticed that the lawn had been cut.
I hadn’t had the time or energy to do it myself, but there it was, neatly trimmed, as if someone had taken care of it during the night.
A few days later, I stopped at a drive-through for a coffee and discovered that the car in front of me had already paid for my order.
Then there was my car.
It had been making a strange noise for weeks, and I had been putting off taking it to the mechanic, worried about the cost.
One afternoon, I found a note under the windscreen wiper.
I’ve noticed that your car needs a small repair. If you ever want to bring it in, I’ll take a look at it. It’s free. I just wanted to say thank you.
It was signed with a name I didn’t recognize, along with the address of a local garage.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that these were no coincidence.
Someone was behind this. Someone had noticed me. Someone had decided to help me.
Then, one afternoon, I found the answer.
I had taken Jamie and Emily to the park, hoping they would burn off some energy while I sat on a bench, enjoying a rare moment of peace.
It was then that I saw the young delivery man from that night. He was sitting a few benches away, checking his phone.
I hesitated, plucked up my courage and approached.
“Hi,” I said, my voice wavering. ‘Do you remember when you brought me food at home a few weeks ago? Chinese takeaway?”
He looked up, startled. His face went from confusion to recognition, and a slow smile spread across his lips.
“Yes, I remember,’ he said. ”I didn’t think you’d track me down.”
I folded my arms. “It was you, wasn’t it? The note, the small acts of kindness… someone mowing my lawn, the free car repair. Was it you?”
His smile became shy. ‘Not just me.”
I bowed my head, waiting for him to explain.
“Um… It’s just that…’ he began. ”Your story spread and people wanted to help.”
“My story?” I asked. ‘What does that mean? You don’t even know me.”
He looked me in the eye, with a sincere expression.
“You didn’t have to,’ he said. ”When I left the food, I saw the toys in the yard, how you looked exhausted, but you kept trying. It reminded me of my mother when I was a child. She also raised me alone. She had two jobs. And she barely had time to breathe.”
I swallowed hard, trying to process what was happening.
“But how did my story get ‘out there’?” I asked.
He sighed, looking at the floor for a moment before looking back at me. ”After I left your house that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about you and your children.”
I remained silent, letting him speak.
“I mentioned it to some work colleagues the next day,” he continued. ”I told them about the mix-up and that I had left the food at your house anyway. They started asking about you. If you needed help or if you had family nearby. I didn’t know, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
He took out his phone and tapped the screen.
“So I posted it in a local community group. I didn’t share her name or address, I just said she was a hardworking single mom who could probably use a little kindness. I thought maybe someone would want to lend a hand.”
I felt my breath catch. “And people did?”
He nodded. “You’d be surprised. A guy in my neighborhood offered to check your car. A woman messaged me saying she wanted to leave a gift card for groceries in your mailbox. Others asked how they could help without making it obvious.”
I covered my mouth with my hand, emotions swirling inside me. ”The coffee? The lawn?”
“The coffee was a woman in the group. The lawn? It was my friend. He mows lawns for a living and said it would take him five minutes, so why not?”
I shook my head, still incredulous. “All these people… they don’t even know me.”
He smiled. ”That’s the point. They don’t have to. Sometimes people just want to help.”
I looked at him, my mind still processing everything. Then a thought struck me.
“That first night… the Chinese food. Who really paid for it?”
“Honestly? I have no idea,” he said.
“Wait… you don’t know?”
“No. At first I assumed it was you, but since you seemed so confused, I thought someone else had sent it.”
I wasn’t expecting it. I thought that first meal was part of his plan too.
“Whoever paid for it… has started something bigger than they probably realized,” he began. ”But promise me something, will you?”
I looked at him, nodding.
“When you get the chance, do the same for someone else.”
His words stayed with me long after that day.
Months later, I was queuing at the supermarket when I heard an exhausted woman behind me. She was apologizing to the cashier, rummaging through her purse, her face red with embarrassment. Her card had been declined.
Without hesitation, I went forward. “I’ve got it.”
She turned to me, her eyes wide open. ‘Oh, no, I can’t let you…”
I smiled. ’Really. It’s okay.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she whispered, ”Thank you.”
As I handed the card to the cashier, I remembered the note I had found that night on the back of the receipt.
Sometimes life surprises us in a good way. Open your heart and goodness will return to you.
And I knew, without a doubt, that he had already done so.