When the hospital finally told us we could go home, I didn’t feel relief—just numb. My daughter Callie, wearing her mask and hugging her stuffed bunny, smiled and waved at the nurses. But I couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in my chest. I had lost my job weeks ago, the calls had stopped, and our rent was months overdue. We had nowhere to go.

An Unexpected Turn
Then, two police officers showed up. My heart sank, thinking the worst—but a nurse leaned over and gently said, “It’s okay. They’re here to help.” The officers carried our things and drove us to a “temporary placement.” At a small blue house, a woman named Mrs. Harper welcomed us. I had no idea what was happening. Before leaving, one of the officers handed me an envelope and said, “Open this.”

A Family’s Gift
Inside was a house key and a letter—from my brother Derek. We hadn’t spoken in years. The note read, “This isn’t charity. This is family. Go to 427 Maple Street. It’ll all make sense.” Derek had bought us a home—no strings attached. Mrs. Harper smiled and said, “He’s a good man. He asked me to look after you.”

Moving Forward
Little by little, Derek reached out. He helped me get a part-time job. Callie started school and began smiling again. One evening, Derek said, “You know this doesn’t change anything. You’re still my sister. Always.” I whispered, “Thank you… for everything.”

Life is still challenging, but for the first time in a long while, I feel stable. I’ve learned this: Don’t be afraid to ask for help—and when it shows up, don’t be afraid to accept it.