Once, on a bitter winter evening, I noticed a young mom standing alone on the street, her shoulders trembling—not just from the cold, but from something deeper. She cradled her baby under her thin coat, trying desperately to shield the tiny body from the wind. Her lips were blue; her eyes hollow.When she whispered, “She’s freezing… I don’t know what to do,” it felt like the world narrowed to just the two of them. She looked one bad minute away from collapsing. I didn’t think—just acted.

I guided her into the nearest shop, bought the warmest wool blanket they carried, and wrapped it around her baby. She cried quietly into the fabric, relief shaking through her whole body. I pressed $200 into her hand.I guided her into the nearest shop, bought the warmest wool blanket they carried, and wrapped it around her baby. She cried quietly into the fabric, relief shaking through her whole body. I pressed $200 into her hand.“It’s not much,” I said, “but it’s a start. Please take care of yourself.”Before we parted, she unclipped a pink pacifier holder from the baby’s coat. It was simple—rubber beads and a small clasp.She placed it in my hand and whispered, “Keep it. You’ll know when it matters.”