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Yesterday, my husband told me we needed to go pick up his niece after graduation because we were treating her to dinner. She was in the bus loop. As we pulled around, I noticed a young man sitting by himself on the bleachers. I told my husband something didn’t feel right—it was strange to see a graduate sitting off to himself like that.

I told him, “If he’s still sitting there when we come back around, I’m going to stop and check on him.”

Sure enough, he was still there. So I rolled my window down and asked, “Are you okay?”

He replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

But I knew that was a lie. I said, “No, you’re not,” and got out of the car.

I looked to my right and saw people walking toward us, calling out, “Is he okay?”

I yelled back, “No, and I’m about to find out what’s wrong.”

I put my hand on his shoulder—and y’all—he broke down.

He looked at me and said, “My family didn’t make it to my graduation.”

My heart shattered. I didn’t know what else to do but embrace him. By then, the people who had been walking over reached us, and more cars started pulling up—people were getting out and hugging him too.

Someone nearby said his name was Westley, so that’s what I called him—and he never corrected me. I told him, “God didn’t send me to Loris High for no reason.” Because let me be clear—I had no idea we were going there. We were supposed to be headed straight to Outback for dinner with my family to celebrate my godson and nephew’s graduation.

I told him, “Your family was here. The family God put in place for you as you walk into this next chapter of life.” I even offered to take him to dinner with us, but he declined and said his parents were just down the road and on the way. (That was another little fast one he shot me!)

We waited over an hour before his mother finally pulled up.

In the meantime, I asked him if he had cash app, he replied yes and said ma’am you don’t have to do that. I replied I know I don’t, but I want to. All the people around followed without being asked. I gave him some balloons I had in the car, but while we were taking pictures, the first set floated away. My daughter went to get the second set I had, and we gave those to him.

Later, I found out his real name isn’t Westley—it’s Anthony!

So I gave him a nickname like WE do in the South. I said, “Big Ant—not the little one!”

I spoke life into him. I reminded him that even when the ones you expect to show up don’t, GOD WILL. He steps in and sends the right people, the ones you didn’t even know you needed.

Long story short—Jimmy and I have a new nephew. Big Ant. ❤️

I told him I would share his story on TikTok, and maybe someone would be moved to bless him.

He cannot accept anymore cash apps, I decided to create a go fund me to assist Anthony with whatever he needs. I know that his truck is currently down. He has plans to use these funds to pay to repair is truck.