My mornings are harried. Getting four kids to three different places and then myself to work by 8:00 AM is no easy feat! I have my routine and route that have literally become a down-to-the-minute science, and nothing can throw it off.

The biggest headache in the process is not caused by my own kids or myself. It’s that if I don’t pass a certain house after the first two drop-offs before 7:38, I get stuck for several minutes. A school bus holds me up when it stops in front of this particular house to collect its first student, a severely disabled child in a wheelchair.

Usually, I get past the past the house in the nick of time, with the bus approaching me, and I think about all the cars behind me that will have to wait. “Ha! Fools!” I think to myself. But this morning, I couldn’t get Sam out of the car fast enough, and by the time I was zipping through the neighborhood to my third drop-off, it happened. The bus! There it was, just getting to the house, the lighted red stop sign flapped open and blinking.

I soaked it in. My chest felt heavy, my eyes welled up and I couldn’t moveMy mind began reeling in annoyance about how busy I am, about all the things I have to do, and how I have to get to work. And on top of it, how I have to wait and be pulled into the vortex of somebody else’s life. Why do I have to sit here and watch someone else’s kid go to school? I’ve got four of my own I’m dealing with!

So, with nothing to do, I sat and watched like I’ve done many, many times all school year. The bus driver gets out and stands next to the school bus and waits. After a minute or two, Dad pushes his son down the ramp and to the school bus. His son is almost as big as he is and extremely tall.

Dad is so careful making his way down the ramp. This is when I would ordinarily roll my eyes and think, “Come on, you’re not rolling him through a minefield . . . get it going!” But today things went in a totally different direction. I soaked it in. My chest felt heavy, my eyes welled up and I couldn’t move. I felt G‑d all around.

I sat in awe watching the love and care his father took to ensure that the wheelchair made it safely to the bus, and how he helped the bus driver load his son onto the wheelchair lift. But before the bus driver lifted it, he knew to wait so Dad could kiss and caress and speak sweetly to his boy. After their moment, the bus driver lifted and secured the boy, made his way to the driver’s seat, pulled back the stop sign and drove away.

I just sat there crying. Dad stood on the sidewalk, sweetly waving goodbye as the bus pulled away. And when I drove past his house, he smiled and waved at me, mouthing the words “Thank you.”