As I drove home, I noticed a small child on a school bus, terrified, hammering on the rear window. My entire world came to an end. There was a serious problem. But aboard a supposedly safe school bus, what possible harm could a small child be in? My heart skipped a beat as I followed the bus to find out.

As I drove home, the rain drummed against my windshield, each drop reflecting the weight of my heart. I must have had the worst day of my life today. In addition to my fiancé calling off our wedding last week, I recently lost my job. I was a jumbled mix of feelings and ideas in my head.

I muttered to myself, knuckles white on the steering wheel, “Remain cool, Mollie.” There must be an alternative. Another door must open if the first closes, right?

However, the words seemed meaningless.How could I tell my mother that I had lost my job at home?

She would become quite anxious. She had been my pillar of support ever since Dad passed away, so the last thing I wanted was to disappoint her.

It was my phone’s fifth buzz. Mom once more. Answering, I pulled over to the curb.

Indeed, Mom, I will arrive in ten minutes. I’m behind the wheel.

“Have you looked at the weather prediction, Mollie, honey? A powerful storm is approaching. Please exercise caution.

I forcefully gulped. The storm that was building inside of me was far worse than this one.

“Yes, indeed, don’t be alarmed. I will be there shortly.

“Is everything in order? You seem strange.

“Mom, I’m good. Simply put, exhausted. I must drive, will we? With a constricted throat, I hung up. “I love you.”

How could I tell her that I was fired for just defying management?I was aware of the true reason behind their use of the excuse “not meeting quarterly targets.”

“What could possibly go wrong at this point?” As I put the car back in gear, I mumbled.

I had no idea that I would soon find out.

There was a yellow school bus rumbling by me as I got back into traffic. I noticed something through the rear window: a small child with her face pressed up against the glass and her little fists thumping wildly. She was sobbing for assistance.

“How the heck? God, oh God… Is she okay? I let out a gasp.

I raced after the bus, gunning the engine without thinking. It was obvious the toddler was distressed, but why? On a school bus that seemed to be safe, what kind of danger could she be in?

I whispered, blaring my horn a lot, “I’m coming, hold on, sweetie.”

The bus driver didn’t appear to notice, driving on as if nothing were wrong. Feeling panic rise in my chest, I decided in a single second. I veered around the bus and passed it, bringing it to a halt in the center of the heavily traveled road.

The driver stormed out, a big man with a thick black mustache. “Lady, what kind of prank are you pulling? You might have started a mishap!

I pushed past him and hurried aboard the bus, ignoring him. I felt the noise like a wall. With laughter and shouting, the children gathered around the girl.

With tears streaming down her cheeks, the little girl was sitting by herself when I hurried to the back. I got to her and froze. I had not anticipated this at all.

“Oh my God! Do you have an asthma attack right now?

The young girl gasped for breath and nodded wildly, her chest heaving. With my heart pounding, I knelt next to her chair.

“Lovely, what’s your name?” I asked, attempting to seem calm.

She gestured to the identification card slung around her neck. Chelsea was her name.

“All right, Chelsea, we’ll get assistance for you. Is your inhaler somewhere?

Speechless, Chelsea shook her head. When I looked up, the driver was pale and had followed me.

“Are you aware of her inhaler’s location?”

He gave a headshake. “I… I had no idea she was having problems. I couldn’t hear anything because of how loud it is back here.

I swallowed my ireful remark and began rummaging through Chelsea’s backpack. Nothing. As soon as I saw the tiny girl’s lips begin to turn blue, panic tore at my insides.

“Help me look!” I shouted at the driver.

We searched under the seats, in the aisle, everywhere we could think of. To my horror, I realized the other kids were laughing, some even pointing at Chelsea.

“This isn’t funny!” I snapped at them. “She needs help!”

That’s when it hit me. I started grabbing all their backpacks, ignoring their protests.

“Hey, you can’t do that!” a freckle-faced boy yelled.

I found it in the third bag I checked: a blue inhaler with Chelsea’s name on it. I rounded on the boy who owned the backpack.

“Why do you have this?”

He looked away, muttering, “It was just a joke.”

“A joke? She could have died!”

I rushed back to Chelsea, helping her use the inhaler. Gradually, her breathing steadied and the color returned to her face. I held her hand, murmuring soothing words as she recovered.

The driver stood there, wringing his hands. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea…”

I turned to him, my anger flaring. “These kids are your responsibility! You should’ve checked what was going on when you heard a commotion!”

He nodded, shame-faced. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Chelsea tugged at my sleeve, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

Those two words hit me harder than anything else that had happened that day. I couldn’t leave her alone after this.

“I’m staying with you until we get you home, okay?”

Chelsea nodded, a small smile on her tear-stained face.

I turned to the driver. “I’m going to move my car and ride with her. Is that okay?”

He nodded quickly. “Of course. It’s the least we can do after… well, everything.”

As I stepped off the bus to move my car to the parking lot nearby, I realized my hands were shaking. What a day this had turned out to be.

Back on the bus, I sat beside Chelsea, my comforting arm around her shoulders. The other kids were unusually quiet now, the severity of what had happened finally sinking in.

“Why didn’t the other kids help you?” I asked gently.

Chelsea’s lower lip trembled. “They think it’s funny when I can’t breathe. They hide my inhaler sometimes.”

My heart broke for her. “That’s not okay, Chelsea. You know that, right?”

She nodded, looking down at her hands. “I try to be brave, but sometimes I get so scared.”

I squeezed her shoulder. “You were incredibly brave today. You got my attention when you needed help. That takes a lot of courage.”

A small smile played on her lips. “Really?”

“Really. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”

Two stops later, Chelsea pointed out the window. “That’s my mommy and daddy!”

A school bus on a rainy evening | Source: Unsplash

As we got off the bus, Chelsea’s parents rushed over, confusion etched on their faces.

“Chelsea, who’s this?” her mother asked, eyeing me warily.

Chelsea’s voice was stronger now as she said, “This is Mollie. She saved my life.”

After Chelsea explained what happened, her parents’ expressions morphed from confusion to gratitude to anger at the bus driver, at the other kids, and at the whole situation.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Chelsea’s father said, tearing up.

“I’m just glad I was there to help.”

Chelsea’s mother, Mrs. Stewart, insisted on driving me back to my car. As we arrived at the mall parking lot, the skies opened up, rain coming down in sheets.

“So, Mollie,” Mrs. Stewart said, peering at me through the rain-streaked windshield, “what do you do?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Funny you should ask. I actually lost my job today.”

Mrs. Stewart’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. May I ask what happened?”

I sighed, the events of the day washing over me again. “I spoke up about some unethical practices. They didn’t like that, so they found an excuse to let me go.”

Mrs. Stewart was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “You know, my husband and I run a small business. We might have an opening. Would you be interested in coming in for an interview?”

I blinked, not sure I’d heard her correctly. “Are you serious?”

She smiled. “Absolutely. Anyone who’d go to such lengths to help a child in need is someone I’d like to have on my team.”

As we pulled up to my car, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. Mrs. Stewart handed me her business card.

“Call me tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll set something up.”

I clutched the card, a spark of hope igniting in my chest. “Thank you. I will.”

The next morning, I woke up feeling lighter than I had in weeks. I’d told Mom everything that had happened. About losing my job, saving Chelsea, the potential new opportunity… everything.

She’d hugged me tight, pride shining in her eyes.

“I always knew you were meant for great things, darling!”

Now, as I dialed the number on Mrs. Stewart’s card, my heart was racing again, but this time with excitement rather than fear.

“Hello, Mollie,” Mrs. Stewart’s warm voice came through the phone. “I’m so glad you called. How would you feel about coming in for an interview this afternoon?”

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “I’d love to. Thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“No, Mollie,” she said, and I could practically hear the smile in her voice. “Thank you. You saved our daughter. This is the least we can do.”

As I hung up the phone, I felt tears prick my eyes. But for the first time in a long while, they were tears of joy, not sorrow.

I was so happy and realized that it’s indeed true: When God shuts one door, He always opens another. And sometimes, that new door leads to places you never could have imagined.