I’m a single mom, raising my 6-year-old daughter, Isla. And honestly, things were rough.
I was working two jobs—day shifts at the diner and evening shifts at the gas station. I barely saw her awake. Our fridge always had more condiments than food. Rent was a game of timing. And when that one unexpected bill hit my mailbox… I stared at it knowing I was completely out of options.
Not even late-night budgeting and instant noodles could fix this one.
I cried in the bathroom. Quietly. So Isla wouldn’t hear.
That night, I was sitting at the kitchen table, unopened mail in a pile, calculator blinking, when Isla walked in wearing her little princess pajamas and holding something behind her back.
She said, “Mommy, I made something for you.”
I wiped my face, forced a smile, and said, “What is it, baby?”
She pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper.
In crayon, she had written:
“Dear Money, Please be nice to my mommy. She works SO hard. You should give her a break. Also, she makes really good pancakes. Love, Isla.”
And inside the paper was three quarters, two dimes, and a penny.
“It’s all from my jar,” she said. “I want to help.”
I pulled her into my lap and hugged her harder than I ever had.
She whispered, “Did I do okay?”
I could barely speak. “You did more than okay, honey. You reminded me I’m not alone.”
The next morning, I taped that letter to the fridge.
Later that week, a customer at the diner noticed me tearing up while reading it again. She asked what it was, and I shared it—just needing someone to hear it.
The next day, she came back and handed me a plain envelope.
Inside was $200 and a note:
“Tell Isla that money finally listened.”
💬 Final Thought:
Sometimes it’s not the money that saves you.
It’s a tiny hand.
A crayon letter.
A reminder that love will always show up when you least expect it—and most need it.
