“Mom, that car is on sale! Wow—look how cool it is!” Ever since my older daughter lost her old car in an accident a few months ago, she had been gazing longingly at every car that passed by. The insurance company gave us compensation, but finding a decent car for that amount was like trying to catch a star from the sky. We searched everywhere—newspapers, used‑car lots, cars with SALE signs—but nothing worked. The cheap ones were obviously junk, and the ones she liked were far beyond our budget.

Finally, we asked a deacon who ran an auto repair shop to help us find something suitable. Soon he called. I took my daughter and went to the shop. Waiting for us was a 1989 gray Hyundai Excel. I glanced at my daughter. She had always dreamed of a sleek sports car or a Jeep, and now she stood staring at this pitiful‑looking Excel, her face instantly falling.

“Mom… do we really have to buy this one…?” she whispered. Trying to smooth things over, I said, “Well… since the deacon recommended it, I’m sure it’s reliable.”

She walked around it, took it for a quick drive around the neighborhood, and without another word wrote a check for a thousand dollars. Honestly, I had secretly hoped she would say, “I don’t want this car!” and walk away. But instead, something in my heart tightened. My husband and I had never felt so sorry toward our child—21 years old now—and unable to buy her the nice sports car she deserved.

Then I remembered something my husband once said as he slipped a one‑dollar fake ring onto my finger: “Sweetheart, I may not be able to buy you a real diamond ring, but you know I’m giving you my whole heart.” Yes—what matters is not what we can see, but the meaning behind it.

So I looked at my daughter and said, “Sena, you know this, right? Mom and Dad can’t buy you a new car, but we’re trying our best to give you what truly matters.” Her disappointed face suddenly brightened. “Mom, this is great! I can go anywhere with this. I’m so relieved. Now I don’t have to live with guilt anymore!” “Guilt?” “Yes! Toward the kids in North Korea and the people in Somalia!” Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re right,” I said softly. “We should always stay awake to the world around us.” Standing before my suddenly‑mature daughter, I felt ashamed for having been sad about not buying her a new car.

But God had another surprise waiting. After registering the car at the DMV, she received her new license plate. She stared at it for a moment, then her face lit up and she began jumping with joy.

“Mom! Look at this—W21 4GH! Women 21, For God’s Helper! A 21‑year‑old partner of God! Isn’t it amazing?”

“…Let me see… You’re right!” Right there on the street, we clapped our hands together and laughed with such pure joy that I can hardly remember another moment like it. On that blazing hot day, the little Hyundai Excel—driven by a beautiful 21‑year‑old partner of God—sped toward the parsonage as if carrying a cool breeze from the South Pacific.

— Wanhee Yoon, 9/18/1998