Several years ago, I learned a lesson I’ve never forgotten: sometimes unexpected kindness arrives from the most unlikely places. It happened when I first learned that my dear friend Peter was gravely ill.

My husband, Ray, waited two days before telling me about Peter’s diagnosis. I was buried in work with several students on their final term papers, and Ray waited until the last paper was turned in before sitting me down to share the news. He knew I would be very upset and, in his words, “I didn’t think waiting two days to tell you would make a huge difference in the big picture.” I understood his reasoning and appreciated his sensitivity, but I also felt terrible that I hadn’t yet called Peter or his partner, Jan.

When I did call Jan, he calmly explained that Peter’s prognosis was less than six months. A hospice nurse by profession, he relayed the news without emotion and encouraged me to call Peter directly. I steeled myself, dialed his number, and—of course—got his voicemail. At the beep, I said, “Peter, I’ve heard the news.” To my dismay, I immediately broke down, crying for a full minute. I hadn’t meant to. I knew my call was supposed to comfort him, not burden him with my sorrow. After managing to say I loved him and that he was in my prayers, I left my number and hung up, then berated myself for being so emotional.

A few minutes later, my phone dinged with a text.

It read: I am so sorry you are sad. However, I am not Peter. You dialed the wrong number.

Horrified, I realized I’d poured my grief into a stranger’s voicemail. Oddly enough, I was relieved Peter hadn’t heard it. I texted the man back, apologizing for troubling him. His reply came immediately: I am deeply sorry for your loss. No problem at all.

At that point, I had to laugh through my tears. What a gracious response. That stranger absorbed all my emotion without a shred of malice. I then carefully redialed and, this time, reached Peter himself. Our conversation was warm and calm, exactly as I had hoped.

Now, looking back after all these years, I almost feel there was a touch of divine intervention in my misdial. Some would say Peter wouldn’t have minded hearing my raw sadness, and that’s probably true. But I know from experience that many who are dying face the process with practicality, and excessive emotion can feel more like a burden than a gift.

In the end, the stranger on the other end of that mistaken call reminded me that there are truly kind people in the world.

Thank God for the kindness of strangers.