We were headed to Butte—
a hundred miles of road,
six of us
dressed in our Sunday best
for a youth conference ahead.
Three girls.
Three boys.
And somewhere along the way—
a flat tire.
The car pulled over
to the side of a Montana road,
with a barrow pit waiting
just below.
The boys stepped out…
looked things over…
and then—
Disappeared.
Down into the ditch
like a plan
had already been made.
“Go on,” they said.
So there we stood—
three girls in dresses,
pretending to change a tire
we already knew
how to fix.
Because we could have—
Sunday clothes and all—
we had been taught
how to manage such things.
But before long—
A trucker stopped.
Kindness rolling in
on heavy wheels.
He stepped out,
did the work,
set things right—
while we stood by,
grateful and composed.
And just as he finished—
Up came the boys
from the barrow pit,
all smiles and handshakes,
offering thanks
like they’d been there all along.
We drove away laughing—
all the way to Butte.
And maybe—
just maybe—
that trucker laughed too…
or wondered
what in the world
he had just stepped into.
✨ Sparks: Legacy of Love ✨
Because sometimes
the journey is remembered
for the laughter along the way.
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