Stacy Innerst/Post-Gazette illustration

I received a gift from a lovely soul one late night in September and have been wondering since how to honor this man. This column provided the answer.

As I drove out of Downtown following an event where I had been working, the dreaded "out of gas" symbol illuminated my dashboard. Surely, I thought, I could make it to a gas station. I guessed wrong. My car slowed to a dead halt along Bigelow Boulevard -- that desolate stretch between Downtown and Polish Hill.

My first thought was to get out and push the car to the next intersection. Right, great idea! I was dressed in formal evening wear.

Second thought was better: Call my husband. He would be able to arrive with gas far quicker than any road service. I asked him if I should stay in the car or get out and try to cross to the four-lane road. His response: "Stay in the car, but be prepared to get hit." Hmmm, comforting.

My car was shaking from passing traffic. My eyes were trained on every car that appeared in the rearview mirror. My spirit was sending out silent prayers that we all be delivered safely. Just then, a car slowed and pulled in front of mine. OK, this could either be a good thing or not. A man got out and approached my window.

"Do you need some help?" a kind and warm voice asked. I explained the situation.

"What's your husband's ETA?" he queried.

"Soon," I replied.

"Well, I'll divert traffic around you until he arrives, so you don't get hit. My name is Kevin and I've got some caution flags in my trunk."

As he prepared to start warning the oncoming cars with his big orange flags and direct them beyond ours, I squeezed his hand to thank him and encouraged him to remain mindful of his own well-being. He smiled and set about to do what he had offered. In a matter of minutes, drivers were reducing their speeds considerably as Kevin diverted them to the other lane.

Before long, a police car arrived. The officers relieved Kevin of his service by parking their car behind mine and putting their flashers on as we awaited my husband to arrive with the gasoline. The police joined me in thanking Kevin.

I asked him to write down his name and address so I could express the depth of my gratitude to him. He put his hand up and said, "Now don't send money! Promise you will not send money!"

I gave him a huge hug. "You were my angel this evening," I said. "You helped not only me but all those drivers who might not have seen my car until it was too late."

He smiled and, as he walked away, quietly said, "This is where I was meant to be tonight. Just doing God's work, just doing God's work."

-- ADRIENNE WEHR, Regent Square

My granddaughter, Kene, and I went to the Point for the Oct. 4 fireworks celebration of Pittsburgh's 250th birthday. Kene is handicapped and in a wheelchair. When we arrived at the parking lot, the attendant told us it was full. All I said was that "I was tired, and we really wanted to see the fireworks."

Thus began the four acts of kindness we received in one evening:

1) The attendant found a spot for us, which happened to be right at the entrance of the lot.

2) As we were rolling toward the lot's exit, the wheelchair's seat belt jammed the wheels. Kene had to get out of the chair and get her crutches and stand holding the blankets as she waited for me to fix her chair.

The attendant came to my rescue again and stuck with me until he worked it out.

3) After the stage show at the Point, we pushed our way through the crowd on the soggy grass in search of a good spot from which to watch the fireworks. On the way, as darkness was falling, my granddaughter remarked that she'd like to have one of the glow sticks that a lot of other kids had. A little girl sitting with family overheard -- and asked her dad if she could give Kene her glow stick.

It's not that the little girl had an extra one: She gave her only glow stick. It was heartwarming.

4) After the fireworks, Kene's chair got tangled in the numerous cables in the mud. Two guys with their families stopped and lifted Kene, in her chair, to the sidewalk.

We thanked all of these people on the spot. But I just wanted to say here how good I felt about Pittsburghers that night. And though many people from any walk of life would have helped us, I want to make the point that what makes this extra-special is that Kene and I are African-Americans and all of the people mentioned above are not.

Though Kene's glow stick has gone out, the warmth of kind people on that wet, chilly night will not be forgotten.

-- THE REV. CHRISTINE POPE PORTIS, Penn Hills