I have a nice story to tell, with a middah k’neged middah ending, as well as a Kiddush Ha-Shem. My husband an I were coming home from Brooklyn to the Rockaway/Five Towns area, it was late that night and we were exhausted. We were driving through the Rockaways, and while in Arverne, we were honked by some black ladies who were lost. They were trying to get to Queens via the Van Wyck Espressway, and had gone totally out of their way and had no idea where they were. We tried to explain how to get there, but they were just befuddled, so tired as we were, we told them to follow us, and we drove all the way to the approach to the Van Wyck. The women could not have been more appreciative, and with my husband wearing a yarmulke, it was obvious we were religious Jews.
Fast forward a few weeks – my husband took my son to a long-awaited ball game at Yankee Stadium. They got out rather late, and despite having been told how to get home, they took a wrong turn and ended up in Nowheresville. They had no idea where they were, no GPS, and it was late and a creepy neighborhood somewhere in the Bronx. Finally, someone from that neck of the woods drove by and my husband honked the driver and asked for directions back towards Kennedy Airport. The man started to explain, but it wasn’t clear exactly how to get onto the right road. So the man said, “OK, just follow me, and I’ll get you to the road you need.” He drove ahead of my husband and son for about 15 minutes or so, and then showed them the signs leading to the road they needed to be on.
In both instances, neither party looked at color, or religion, or monetary reward. They each saw someone in trouble, and went a literal extras mile or miles in order to help them. the fact that my family was helped in the exact manner in which we had helped someone else, gives me great chizuk.