The first gesture came right around the rock `n' roll McDonalds. It was accompanied by a honk and a meaningful look. After so many years of driving in Sofia, I just assumed that it was what it always is, a normal part of the rush hour atmosphere. The cold morning forced my girls into a huddle in the back of the van, bookbags at the ready. Our morning commute generally falls into one of two categories: pure chaos or quiet solitude. This morning, we had chosen solitude and we were on track to reach school early, this itself no small miracle. As I made my right hand turn to head into the centre of the city and the heaviest part of the traffic, another honk and gesture captured my attention. Was my driving really that awful?

A mere minute later, I recognised the telltale sound of a flat tyre, and by the time the national stadium loomed in front of me, the reason for the gestures of my good-hearted fellow commuters were all too clear. Traffic was at a standstill and cars were nose to bumper as we waited for the light to allow us entrance onto Evlogi Georgiev. There was an empty parking lot on my left and I knew that this must be my destination. It was now my turn to gesture as I implored three lanes of harried traffic to allow me to cut across their paths.

Cold temperatures, one mother, three little girls and a flat tyre are not a recipe for a smooth morning, but sometimes one has to deal with life on its terms.

Though perhaps not adept at the process, I thought that I could change a tyre when required. The head knowledge was there but as I began to yank on the lug nuts, I found that the brawn does not always accompany the brains. Posing with one foot atop the crowbar, I learned that I could bring all of my kilogrammes to bear upon that foul tool and that I could even perform a myriad of gymnastics upon that instrument, but the lug nuts were not going to budge. At this moment, my 10 year old leant out the window to comment: "I think we need a guardian angel, Mom."

"Yes and a lot of prayer," I mumbled under my breath as I stood with my hands on my hips and stared into traffic weighing my options.

A sniffing dog brought my attention back to the tyre still securely attached to its rim. The dog owner gave a sheepish grin and hurried his canine along on their morning stroll. "No help there," I mused. Another pedestrian approached from the opposite direction and he stopped to ponder my predicament. He was obviously on his way to work and I felt that I should release him from the courteous responsibility that he felt. "It's okay," I encouraged. "I can fix it." His glance at his watch conveyed the inner struggle but courtesy won the battle as he knelt down to place the jack under the car. Indeed, our requested guardian angel had come.

The cold made for clumsy fingers and a poorly constructed jack made the process of raising the van time consuming and frustrating, but eventually it was poised to receive the spare. A grunt and moan cut short the feeling of elation over a job nearly complete. "It is a few centimetres too short," grunted our Gabriel, as he struggled to force the spare tyre onto the now barren rim. The jack was extended to its fullest capacity but, alas, no amount of pushing or pleading was going to convince the spare to slip into position. A surreptitious glance at his watch told me that this good will effort had now made him late to work.

"Wait a minute," he commanded, as he dashed across the street. In the course of jacking up the van, I had learnt that our "Gabriel" was employed at the national stadium in the sumo wrestling division. Imagining a line of irritated sumo wrestlers waiting impatiently for his appearance, I reasoned that he was making a call to explain his absence and plead forgiveness. It would seem unwise to engage the wrath of a group of sumo wrestlers, even if the reason for tardiness was noble.

Moments later, Gabriel returned now accompanied by a muscled young man who took up a position at the front of my minivan. On Gabriel's count of three, to my amazement, a ton of vehicle rose into the air to accommodate the spare tyre. When my own abilities were too feeble to loosen the lug nuts, this sumo single-handedly picked up the front end of a minivan with the same effort that I wrestle the bag of kitchen garbage from its container. Indeed, the mumbled prayer that morning had brought both a guardian angel and a miracle in sumo proportions.

As the cold fingers of autumn begin to clothe the mountains in the vibrant colours of the season, my thoughts turn toward families who will struggle this winter. Recently, I was in the mountain village of Vidrare, near Sofia, where the school's director spoke with me of the needs of her Roma schoolchildren. "Shoes and coats," she said. "These most elementary of items are their biggest need."

For so many families this winter, the lug nuts of their life will never budge without the intervention of a Gabriel. Please let me encourage all of us to be part of someone's answered prayer. Organisations such as the International Women's Club increase their charity efforts at this time of year. Ask how you can help.

Area churches and humanitarian organisations are active in community outreach. Get involved. Schools, like the Anglo-American School of Sofia, are intentionally proactive in social service programmes. Make a donation. If your child's school does not have a charity programme, think about organising one yourself.

The opportunities out there are numerous and the ability you have to help is priceless. The gesture of kindness that you can extend will make a formidable difference in the life of someone less fortunate. True, my single-handed efforts may not wipe out poverty in Sofia, but the simple gesture of donating a pair of shoes and a coat might put a schoolchild on the road to education. The world needs more Gabriels who are willing to bring sumo-sized help. Go ahead and try on a pair of wings to see how they feel. If they do not fit, well, there is always the sumo uniform…