It was a dark, rainy night on I-96 headed toward Lansing. The tires on the "new" car weren't great,
and one of them decided to go right at the curve just beyond the Holland interchange — leaving me
stranded in a blind corner with heavy traffic, low light, and almost no visibility. No cell service.
Only 911, who let me know it would be a while. Understandably. I wasn't injured. I wasn't in
immediate danger. Just stranded, an hour from home.
At that exact moment, Staff Sgt. Scott was on the other side of the highway — returning home from
training in Lansing, training that most likely ended at a precise moment for him to be passing right
then and not already beyond. He turned around. He didn't have to. He first offered his phone, and
seeing the situation — an hour from home, limited help on the way — he made the call to drive me
all the way back himself.
In the scope of a life, fifteen minutes doesn't mean much. But in the scope of four months, it was
everything. A tired trucker, a distracted college kid, anything drifting just slightly to the right
on that shoulder — and I never make it home that night. I don't get the few hours I did, even if it
was late. I'm not there when she needed me at the normal 2 AM roll call. Minutes. Hours. Things that
sound small until they're all you have left. Scott's fifteen minutes ensured I had them — one more
night home, one more time there when it mattered, and the rest of four months I never would have
kept without it.
In April 2026, a caller reached the Grand Rapids post public line and asked to reach a trooper.
Sgt. Scott took the call. When he heard it was about recognition, he offered his email. The name
the caller had didn't quite match — not the last name — but Scott confirmed there was only one Scott
in that division. Himself. The caller shared what details he could. Scott didn't recall right away.
Then slowly, he started to.
Near the end, the caller told him: his daughter had died. And that Scott had given him one more night
out of four months. He thanked him for his service, and said have a good day.
The caller — her father — would've liked to think that changed Scott's day. Not his life. Just his day.
Perhaps more. But at the very least, the hope was that he signed off feeling a little better about
himself and the work he does. Because he should.
Her Footprints
Every Life Touched, Every Heart Changed
4
Lives Touched
1
Lives Saved
0
Learned
0
Awareness
Stories of Impact
Support
Staff Sgt. Scott and the Night on I-96
I-96, Holland Interchange
📅 Apr 2026
He answered a call he didn't have to. It gave a father four more months.
General Impact
A Shared Birthday and a Reason to Keep Going
Somewhere
📅 Apr 2026
A lost friend found. A daughter born on the same day. A reminder that joy still belongs to the world.
An old friend, long lost but never forgotten, came back into the picture. Someone who had faced a
battle not entirely unlike our own — the kind that leaves marks you carry quietly for a long time.
And in the middle of all that weight, they had been given exactly the grace they deserved. A daughter.
That daughter shares Daddy's birthday.
There's something that's hard to put into words about that. Someone who had been through so much, handed something so whole. And tied to the same day that belongs to someone who isn't as young as he used to be, in a season where the day doesn't carry the same feeling it once did — because it shouldn't have to, and it doesn't need to.
But now, every year, that day carries something different. A quiet reminder that somewhere out there, someone else is watching a little girl grow up and laugh and have all the things ahead of her. Things that won't be had here. And that's not a weight — it's a gift. A reason to let the day be joyful for someone else when you're already old enough to know it's not really about you anymore.
Alicia would've wanted that. She had a way of making sure joy landed where it was needed most. She still does.
That daughter shares Daddy's birthday.
There's something that's hard to put into words about that. Someone who had been through so much, handed something so whole. And tied to the same day that belongs to someone who isn't as young as he used to be, in a season where the day doesn't carry the same feeling it once did — because it shouldn't have to, and it doesn't need to.
But now, every year, that day carries something different. A quiet reminder that somewhere out there, someone else is watching a little girl grow up and laugh and have all the things ahead of her. Things that won't be had here. And that's not a weight — it's a gift. A reason to let the day be joyful for someone else when you're already old enough to know it's not really about you anymore.
Alicia would've wanted that. She had a way of making sure joy landed where it was needed most. She still does.
General Impact
A Heart at the Rest Stop
Marshall, MI
📅 Mar 2026
Strangers leave goodwill. The universe leaves signs.
A rest stop outside of Marshall, Michigan. Nothing remarkable about the stop — just a place to
pull off on the way home. While Daddy waited in the lobby for Mommy, he noticed what looked like
an out of order sign hanging on the family bathroom door. He didn't think much of it at first.
After Mommy returned, something pulled him back to look closer. It wasn't an out of order sign at all. Hanging from the door knob was a threaded heart — hand made, carefully placed — with one simple note attached: "I NEED A HOME!"
It was part of the Quilted Heart Project — a quiet, anonymous mission to leave small pieces of handmade goodwill throughout the world for strangers to find and carry home. No fanfare. No credit. Just a heart left somewhere, waiting for the right person to find it.
This one was royal purple and pink. The exact colors of Alicia.
To whoever made it and left it there — they couldn't have known. That's the part that stays with you.
After Mommy returned, something pulled him back to look closer. It wasn't an out of order sign at all. Hanging from the door knob was a threaded heart — hand made, carefully placed — with one simple note attached: "I NEED A HOME!"
It was part of the Quilted Heart Project — a quiet, anonymous mission to leave small pieces of handmade goodwill throughout the world for strangers to find and carry home. No fanfare. No credit. Just a heart left somewhere, waiting for the right person to find it.
This one was royal purple and pink. The exact colors of Alicia.
To whoever made it and left it there — they couldn't have known. That's the part that stays with you.
Support
The Man From Virginia
Bath, MI
📅 Dec 2025
Lack of gas, but no lack of warmness.
I stopped today because of you. I almost didn't as I was on my way somewhere and wasn't late,
but still was driving to do something. I saw the gentleman sitting there on the side of the road,
trying to push his car in 15 degree weather. No one else stopped even with the wall of cars
headed by him at any given second. I almost didn't too, and then realized the moments I didn't
take with you, that I didn't know I needed to and had a lack of, needed to be given to someone else.
So I turned around, I stopped and watched the surprised look on his face wondering who it was and why they'd stop. I just happened to have a can in the back, the station was just across the road (a divided busy highway) and someone needed saving, even if it was just their day that was saved.
So he hopped in, we got gas, got him fueled up and then out on the road again. It took 15 minutes maybe and changed someone's outlook on the day, you did more than enough once again Alicia. Just the gentle push to help someone else. The man had lost something recently too and it seemed the connection was more than just help, it was a nod to what we all deal with and that sometimes, a little extra effort is worth it and changes a lot for just a little.
So I turned around, I stopped and watched the surprised look on his face wondering who it was and why they'd stop. I just happened to have a can in the back, the station was just across the road (a divided busy highway) and someone needed saving, even if it was just their day that was saved.
So he hopped in, we got gas, got him fueled up and then out on the road again. It took 15 minutes maybe and changed someone's outlook on the day, you did more than enough once again Alicia. Just the gentle push to help someone else. The man had lost something recently too and it seemed the connection was more than just help, it was a nod to what we all deal with and that sometimes, a little extra effort is worth it and changes a lot for just a little.
Support
A Snowy Side Street in Lansing
Lansing, MI
📅 Winter 2025
Almost drove by, but love turned the car around.
On a snowy winter day, not far from home on a side street in Lansing, a young girl had gotten her car stuck
and was trying to get back on her way. An older lady was already out there doing what she could, trying to
help and push. I almost kept going. For a moment I told myself someone else would handle it, and I circled
the block before deciding to come back.
I knew Alicia would have been proud of stopping. I knew that if that were her in 20 years, I would pray someone would do the same for her. So I pulled over and joined in to help. Then another neighbor came out, and then someone from across the street came by too. What started with one person trying to help became all of us working together.
Before long, we got her unstuck and moving again. It was a small moment, but it meant something. A cold, snowy day turned into a reminder that kindness spreads quickly when someone chooses to begin. Alicia's footprint was there in that moment too: in the choice to turn around, in the hands that showed up, and in the simple act of making sure someone got safely on their way.
I knew Alicia would have been proud of stopping. I knew that if that were her in 20 years, I would pray someone would do the same for her. So I pulled over and joined in to help. Then another neighbor came out, and then someone from across the street came by too. What started with one person trying to help became all of us working together.
Before long, we got her unstuck and moving again. It was a small moment, but it meant something. A cold, snowy day turned into a reminder that kindness spreads quickly when someone chooses to begin. Alicia's footprint was there in that moment too: in the choice to turn around, in the hands that showed up, and in the simple act of making sure someone got safely on their way.
Donation
Returning The Goodwill
Lansing, MI
📅 Nov 2025
Financial contribution made
With Alicia gone, and Mateo moving on to the real thing, there isn't much of a need for us
to hold on to them anymore. The place that helped Alicia several times, and all of the children,
received what would have been her next meals and some of the clothing. The hope is it helps at
least one small child be fed for even a bit, until the next help can come. As well as perhaps
help a few more with the clothing she gave.
Life Saved
A Life Saved, Truly
Mott's Children's Hospital
📅 Nov 2025
Being A Donor Changes All
As hard as it is in the end waiting for the unknown, being known that we save at least one
and she has a purpose beyond this life - adds a bittersweet touch to all of this. Alicia Mae
Lopez gave all she had in life, even after this life, to try and save someone else the struggle
we experienced. She did great and hopefully someone lives on in her name, even if unknown.
General Impact
Hallways of Laughter
Mott's Children's Hospital
📅 Nov 2025
A life touched by her legacy
In the very place Alicia left us, she also uplifted us. Upon leaving the hospital, a young
man was blessed with the balloon she was given - one she never would have needed but would
have enjoyed just as much. Hearing his strong laughter as he ran down the hallway and shouted
"I got a balloon" was the start of legacy.
"She may have only been with us for a short time, but her legacy will last forever. Every life
saved, every parent educated, every moment of awareness — that's Alicia Mae's gift to the world."
Continue Exploring
Her footprints continue
Forever walking with us
Forever walking with us
