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. It was just another day to him. He
didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. 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, Old George as he
was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the 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
said.
He 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
inside. He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went
back outside. He walked around the building, 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. He
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 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 anyway.
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, "Please 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 money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's
all I got. Now put that pea 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. "Bein' 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 gettin' 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 Jesus"
This
story is better than any greeting card. MERRY CHRISTMAS AND GOD BLESS!
Now
clear the lump from your throat, blow your nose, and send this along to a friend
of yours or someone who may need a reminder as to why we celebrate Christmas.
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