The old man
sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been
anywhere in years since his wife had 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 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, you're
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 y our 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 t o 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.'
Christ is the Reason for the
Christmas Season!
Send this out and maybe some of the
stupid ones will get a hold of this and maybe catch a hint along the
way.
May You All have a great New Year
too!