The old man sat in his gas
station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been anywhere in years since his
wife passed away. He had no decorations, no tree, no lights. It was just
another day to him.
He didn't hate Christmas, just
couldn't find a reason to celebrate.
There were no children in his life.
His wife had gone. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had
been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the
door opened and a homeless man stepped through. Instead of throwing the man out, George, Old George as he
was known by his customers,
told the man to come and sit by the space heater and warm up.
"Thank you, but I don't
mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy. I'll just
go" "Not without something hot in your belly," George turned and
opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much,
but it's hot and tasty. Stew. Made it myself. When you're done there's coffee
and it's fresh."
Just at that moment he heard
the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me be right back,"
George said. There in the driveway was
an old 53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked.
"Mister can you help me!" said the driver with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is
broken." George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from
the cold; the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing," George
said as he turned away. "But
mister. Please help...."
The door of the office
closed behind George as he went in. George went to the office wall and got the
keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building and
opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple
was waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best
thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good." George helped put the
woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night.
George turned and walked
back inside the office. "Glad I gave em the truck. Their tires were shot
too. That 'ol truck has brand new........" George thought he was talking
to the stranger, but the man had gone. The thermos was on the desk,empty with a
used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he got something in his
belly," George thought.
George went back outside to
see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled
it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it
for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered that the
block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this," he
said to himself. So he put a new one on. "Those tires ain't gonna get 'em
through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old
Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car.
As he was working he heard
shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the
cold ground. Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Help
me." George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had
received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention. "Pressure to stop the bleeding,"
he thought. The uniform company had been there that morning and had left clean
shop towels. He used those and duct tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say
duct tape can fix anythin'," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at
ease.
"Something for
pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back.
"These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave the
policeman the pills. "You hang in there. I'm going to get you an
ambulance." The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies
on that there talk box out in your car."
He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard
destroying the two way radio.
He went back in to find the
policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could
have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the area." George sat down beside him. "I would
never leave an injured man in the Army and I ain't gonna leave you."
George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "Looks worse than
what it is. Bullet passed right through 'ya. Good thing it missed the important
stuff though. I think with time your gonna be right as rain."
George got up and poured a
cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked. "None for
me," said the officer. "Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city.
Too bad I ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the same
time.
The front door of the office
flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it
now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell
that he had never done anything like this before. "That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the
officer. "Son, why are you doing
this?" asked George. "You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else
might get hurt." The young man was
confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the
cash!"
The cop was reaching for his
gun. "Put that thing away,"
George said to the cop. "We got one too many in here now." He turned
his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need the money, well then, here. It
ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pee shooter away." George
pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the
barrel of the gun at the same time.
The young man released his
grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at
this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went
on. "I've lost my job. My rent is due. My car got repossessed last
week..." George handed the gun to the cop. "Son, we all get in a bit
of squeeze now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through
the best we can."
He got the young man to his
feet, and sat him down on a chair
across from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed
the young man a cup of coffee. "Being stupid is one of the things that
makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and
get warm and we'll sort this thing out."
The young man had stopped
crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you. It just went off.
I'm sorry officer." "Shut up and drink your coffee." the cop
said. George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an
ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn.
"Chuck! You ok?"
one of the cops asked the wounded officer. "Not bad for a guy who took a
bullet. How did you find me?" "GPS locator in the car. Best thing
since sliced bread. Who did this?" the other cop asked as he approached
the young man. Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the
dark. Just dropped his gun and ran."
George and the young man
both looked puzzled at each other. "That guy work here?," the wounded
cop continued. "Yep," George said. "Just hired him this morning.
Boy lost his job." The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the
stretcher. The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered,
"Why?" Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas boy. And you too,
George, and thanks for everything."
"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to
solve some of your problems."
George went into the back
room and came out with a box. He pulled
out a ring box. "Here you go. Something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would mind. She said it
would come in handy some day." The
young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw. "I
can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to
you." "And now it means
something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I need." George reached into
the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys
that the oil company had left for him to sell.
"Here's something for
that little man of yours." The young man began to cry again as he handed
back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier. "And what are you
supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too," George said.
"Now git home to your family."
The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be
here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good." "Nope.
I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."
George turned around to find
that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you come from? I thought you
left?" "I have been here. I
have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you don't celebrate
Christmas. Why?" "Well, after
my wife passed away I just couldn't see what all the bother was. Puttin' up a
tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to
with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was getting a little
chubby." The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do
celebrate the holiday, George.
You gave me food and drink
and warmed me when I was cold and hungry. The woman with child will bear a son
and he will become a great doctor. The policeman you helped will go on to save 19
people from being killed by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will
make you a rich man and not take any for himself. That is the spirit of the
season and you keep it as good as any man."
George was taken aback by
all this stranger had said. "And how do you know all this?" asked the
old man. "Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing.
And when your days are done you will be with Martha again." The stranger
moved toward the door. "If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I
have to go home where there is a big celebration planned." George watched as the old leather jacket and
the torn pants that the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden
light began to fill the room. "You see, George... it's my birthday. Merry
Christmas." George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday,
Lord."
~Author Unknown~
How about this for a Christmas analogy? Bring a few tears to your eyes, it did mine!
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