Carl was a quiet man. He didn't talk much. He would always
greet you with a big smile and a firm handshake. Even after living in
our
neighborhood for over 50 years, no one could really say they knew him
very
well.
Before his retirement, he took the bus to work each morning. The lone
sight
of him walking down the street often worried us. He had a slight limp
from a
bullet wound received in W.W.II. Watching him, we
worried that although he had survived W.W.II, he may not make it
through our
changing uptown neighborhood with its ever-increasing random violence,
gangs, and drug activity.
When he saw the flyer at our local church asking for volunteers for
caring
for the gardens behind the minister's residence, he responded in his
characteristically unassuming manner. Without fanfare, he
just signed up.
He was well into his 87th year when the very thing we had
always feared finally happened. He was just finishing his watering for
the
day when three gang members approached him. Ignoring their attempt to
intimidate him, he simply asked, "Would you like a drink from the
hose?" The
tallest and toughest-looking of the three said, "Yeah, sure," with a
malevolent little smile. As Carl offered the hose to him, the other two
grabbed Carl's arm, throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily over
the
ground, dousing everything in its way, Carl's assailants stole his
retirement watch and his wallet, and then fled.
Carl tried to get himself up, but he had been thrown down
on his bad leg. He lay there trying to gather himself as the minister
came
running to help him. Although the minister had witnessed the attack
from his
window, he couldn't get there fast enough to stop it. "Carl, are you
okay?
Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking as he helped Carl to his feet.
Carl
just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking his head.
"Just some punk kids. I hope they'll wise-up someday." His
wet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the hose. He
adjusted the nozzle again and started to water. Confused and a little
concerned, the minister asked, "Carl, what are you doing?" "I've got to
finish my watering. It's been very dry lately," came the calm reply.
Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right, the minister could
only
marvel. Carl was a man from a different time and place.
A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before their
threat was unchallenged. Carl again offered them a drink from his hose.
This
time they didn't rob him. They wrenched the hose from his hand and
drenched
him head to foot in the icy water. When they had finished their
humiliation
of him, they sauntered off down the street, throwing catcalls and
curses,
falling over one another laughing at the hilarity of what they had just
done.
Carl just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth giving sun,
picked
up his hose, and went on with his watering. The summer was quickly
fading
into fall. Carl was doing some tilling when he was startled by the
sudden
approach of someone behind him.
He stumbled and fell into some evergreen branches. As he struggled to
regain
his footing, he turned to see the tall leader of his summer tormentors
reaching down for him. He braced himself for the expected attack.
"Don't worry old man, I'm not gonna hurt you this time." The
young man
spoke softly, still offering the tattooed and scarred hand to Carl. As
he
helped Carl get up, the man pulled a crumpled bag from his pocket and
handed
it to Carl.
"What's this?" Carl asked. "It's your stuff," the man explained. "It's
your
stuff back. Even the money in your wallet." "I don't understand," Carl
said.
"Why would you help me now?"
The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at ease. "I
learned
something from you," he said. "I ran with that gang and hurt people
like
you. We picked you because you were old and we knew we could do it. But
every time we came and did something to you, instead of yelling and
fighting
back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn't hate us for hating you.
You
kept showing love against our hate." He stopped for a moment. "I
couldn't
sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back." He paused for
another
awkward moment, not knowing what more there was to say. "That bag's my
way
of saying thanks for straightening me out, I guess." And with that, he
walked off down the street.
Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly opened it. He
took
out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist. Opening
his
wallet,
he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment at the young
bride
that still smiled back at him from all those years ago.
He died one cold day after Christmas that winter. Many people attended
his
funeral in spite of the weather. In particular the minister noticed a
tall
young man that he didn't know sitting quietly in a distant corner of
the
church. The minister spoke of Carl's garden as a lesson in life. In a
voice
made thick with unshed tears, he said, "Do your best and make your
garden as
beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl and his garden."
The following spring another flyer went up. It read:
"Person needed to care for Carl's garden." The flyer went unnoticed by
the
busy parishioners until one day when a knock was heard at the
minister's
office door. Opening the door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and
tattooed hands holding the flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you'll
have
me," the young man said.
The minister recognized him as the same young man who had returned the
stolen watch and wallet to Carl. He knew that Carl's kindness had
turned
this man's life around. As the minister handed him the keys to the
garden
shed, he said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor him."
The man went to work and, over the next several years, he
tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done. In that time,
he
went to college, got married, and became a prominent member of the
community. But he never forgot his promise to Carl's memory and kept
the
garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it.
One day he approached the new minister and told him that
he couldn't care for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and
happy smile, "My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she's
bringing him
home on Saturday."
"Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he was handed the garden
shed
keys. "That's wonderful! What's the baby's name?"
"Carl," he replied.
------
That's the whole gospel message simply stated.
Take 60 seconds give this a shot! Let's just see if Satan
stops this one. All you do is:
1. Simply say a small prayer for the person who sent you
this,
(Father, God bless this person in whatever it is that You
know he or she may be needing this day!)
2. Then send it on to five other people. Within hours five people have
prayed for you, and you caused a multitude of people to pray to God for
other people. Then sit back and watch ! the power of God work in your
life for doing the thing that you know He loves.
GOOD FRIENDS ARE LIKE ANGELS, YOU DON'T HAVE TO SEE
THEM TO KNOW THEY ARE THERE