Tales of Courage: We needed a car.

A new car and driver's license in one day.

I didn’t have a driver’s license. Just a permit from high school that had been collecting dust for about 6-7 years.

But that day, as a single mother of three standing in that heavy lake effect snow on the Southeast side of Chicago, waiting for an overcrowded bus with my babies—ages 1, 2, and 3—I knew something had to change. Their little noses red from the cold, icicles forming on their lashes... I just couldn’t continue to subject them to it.

After dropping them off at the babysitter’s house I spotted an ad in the Chicago Sun-Times: “No money down. Good credit. Drive today.” My credit was good, and I had zero down. So I gave them a call during my break at work, holding my breath, whispering a silent prayer and holding that dusty permit in my hand.

Surprise! I was approved for a brand new Ford!

The dealership even sent a taxi to pick me up after work. That’s how confident they were I’d leave that dealership with a car. I took several peaks at my permit during that drive, as if I hoped it would magically turn into a driver’s license in my purse. The closer we got, the bigger the knot in my stomach grew.

But here’s the kicker: I’d never driven on the expressway before. Not only that, I hadn’t even driven a car since high school driver’s education. I’d spent those years in between being an attentive passenger to my mother’s driving.

My refresher to my own driving skills was my test drive around the dealership’s neighborhood. It’s where we first met, my light blue 1987 Ford Escort. Needless to say, I was more than ready to sign on the dotted line, holding my breath and my permit the entire time. No, they never even asked to see my license. Hard to believe right?

I took off the proud owner of a car note. And the only way to get home from the dealership in Downers Grove... was the Eisenhower expressway.

I gripped that steering wheel like my life depended on it—because it did. I merged onto that speeding Chicago expressway with trembling hands and a prayer on my lips. I was terrified! But I kept going because I had no other choice.

I drove straight to the DMV. No written test needed—I already had the permit. But during the road test, I failed by just three points. That’s when I broke into uncontrollable tears.

I told the examiner, “Sir, I’m a single mother struggling out here on my own. I’ve got to get my three small children out of the cold and off the buses. My babies are counting on me sir and I just bought this car. I have to drive. Failing isn’t an option.”

His eyes held my gaze as if it could wipe my tears away, then scribbled something on his clipboard, and handed my application back. “Go inside and get your license,” he said. “But practice your parallel parking.

I sat behind the wheel of my new Ford Escort with my driver’s license in one hand and those car keys in the other, I cried and hollered with joy. That day started on the bus, but I picked up my babies in a brand-new Ford Escort.

That’s what courage looks like—doing it scared.

We don’t always know what we’re capable of until we’re standing at the edge with nothing but faith and a desperate need to keep going.

If you’re standing at your edge right now, too afraid to move forward, yet too scared not to—I see you. And I’d be honored to walk with you.