BE OUR GUEST: PHARMACY GIVES MOM OF THREE A SPECIAL GIFT

It was 4:30 when I left the warmth of the store and headed into the cold March wind. I locked up and headed to my low-on-fuel car at the opposite end of the parking lot. It only took a few minutes to arrive at my Mother's house where I picked up my three coughing, aching, sneezing, fever, really-need-some-rest kids. I zipped up, wiped noses, loaded up in my low-on-fuel car and headed across town to the doctor's office. We were the last appointment for the day on a Friday, so the office was not very crowded when we arrived. Thank goodness.

I unloaded, herded in, unzipped, wiped noses, took off coats, hung up, signed in, wiped noses, calmed down, and finally sat down. I offered each child an apple Fruit Booster -- a gift from my Mother -- in hopes that if their mouths were full, they would be quiet. It almost worked. We didn't have to wait long before it was our turn. We went in, sat down and waited.

The doctor came in, checked out, wrote prescriptions, went out, and was gone. Then I went out, wrote checks, said "Thank you", gathered up, wiped noses, put on coats, and headed back out into the cold, blustery wind to my low-on-fuel car. There I loaded up, strapped in, started up, and climbed in. Just time to remember that I had forgotten my receipt. I had to have that, so I jumped out, rain in, gave a polite "thank you," and ran back to the car.

But the marathon was far from over. From there, we headed to the drugstore. I jumped out, ran in, waited, wrote a check, gave another polite "thank you," and headed back to my now really-low-on-fuel car. From there we headed to Dad's to borrow an extra vaporizer, and then to the gas station to put my last couple of dollars into the really-low-on-fuel car.

Now, all we had ahead was the 25-minute drive, and we would be home. Home. It seemed like an eternity, but we made it! I climbed out, unstrapped, unloaded, and wiped noses. Then I grabbed the sack from the drugstore, the vaporizer, the diaper bag, and the purse, and headed for the sanctuary of home. But as the door swung open, the sack of medicine fell from my hands, shattered on the wooden deck below. All of the coughing, aching, sneezing, fever, finally get-some-rest medicine flowed from the broken bottles, over the wooden slats and dripped from the crevices to the ground below.

It was more than I could take, and I began to cry -- no weep. My husband helped me to my feet and brought me into the warmth of the house where I fumbled with the phone book until I found the drugstore number through tear-filled eyes. I slowly told them what had happened through my shaking voice. They said they would refill the lost medicine for me, and then politely reminded me that they closed at 7. As I hung up the phone, I glanced at the clock on microwave -- 6:45.

Maybe, if I drove like a demon, I could make it in time. I did not even whisper a goodbye as I rushed out the door and ran to my car. But God has always watched over me and he knew that it was more important for me to live through the night, than to make it to the drugstore in 15 minutes. He put me directly behind Mr. I-never-do-more-than-the-speed-limit, and never gave me the opportunity to pass. The very pleasant radio announcer reminded of the time, "only 9 minutes till 7." Fifteen more miles. "Only 2 minutes till 7." Eight more miles to go. "It's seven-0-two." Four more miles to go. "It's seven-0-six, here at K103 FM. Here's hoping your weekend is off to a good start." Yeah, right.

I pulled into the parking lot and was overjoyed to see the lights still on. They had waited. God bless them. I rushed in, all tear streaked and out of breath, and began rolling out the "Thank you's" while I wrote the check. Then from somewhere behind me, a gentle hand reached out to pat my shoulder, and a soft voice whispered, "There's no charge for that, hon."

The tears came fast and fierce then. I could not hold them back. I turned and looked into the gentle face as I clutched the gift to my bosom tightly, for fear I might lose it again. "Thank you." It came as a sob.

I turned and headed out of the warmth of the building and back into the cold night air. It had not been their fault that I had overloaded my hands in an attempt to make it into the house in one trip. It had not been because of them that I let the sack slip out of my hands and onto the deck. They did not owe me a thing. But out of the kindness of their heart, they had given me a gift, a very special gift.

And as I climbed into my again-low-on-fuel car with tear stained cheeks, and my sack still clutched to my chest, I realized that people are kind. People are generous. People are good. People are very good.

Thank you Gene Brockett and the staff of Jones' Drug Store. Thank you for that very special gift.

Michele Campbell is a mother of three, ages 2, 3 and 6, who lives in Oak Ridge. She's a native of Jackson, and graduate of Jackson High School. This full-time mother is writing a book.