Christmas

[Tassie]

Christmas
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, and 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, you can borrow 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 loaned em the truck. Their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new tires........" 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, 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 a shot 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 laundry 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." George said, but the phone was dead.
 
"Maybe I can get one of your buddies? on that there talk box out in your police 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."  Then George added: "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 works 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 someday."
 
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. A toy airplane, a racing car and a little metal truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's somethin 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.  Count it as part of your first week's pay." 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 become a rich man and share his wealth with many people.
 
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 man's old leather jacket and his torn pants turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the
room.  "You see, George,------- it's my birthday ?? Merry Christmas!
Regards

[DeputyDavid]

Nice story. Thanks for sharing!

[Tassie]

Daniel?s Gloves


I sat, with two friends, in front of the picture window of a quaint restaurant just off the corner of the Cooma NSW Australia town-square. The lunch and the company were both especially good that day. There was the nip of eminent snowfall in the air.

As we talked, my attention was drawn outside, across the street. As I brushed away the frost build-up on the window, there walking into town, was a man dressed in old raggedy clothes who appeared to be carrying all his worldly goods in a burlap sack on his back. He was wearing across his chest, a well-worn sign that read, 'I will work for food.' My heart sank.

I brought him to the attention of my friends and noticed that others around us had stopped eating to focus on him. Heads moved in a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

I continued guiltily with my meal, but his image lingered in my mind. We finished our meal and went our separate ways. I had errands to do and quickly set out to accomplish them. I glanced toward the town square, looking somewhat half-heartedly for the strange visitor. I was fearful, knowing that seeing him again would call some response. I drove through town and saw nothing of him. I made some purchases at a store and got back into my car.

Deep within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking to me: 'Don't go back to the office until you've at least driven once more around the square.'

Then with some hesitancy, I headed back into town. As I turned the corner, I saw him. He was standing on the steps of the local church, going through his sack. His exhaled breath turned to steam as it hit the freezing cold air as his body wracked with cold started to shiver.

I stopped and looked; feeling both compelled to speak to him, yet wanting to drive on. The only empty parking space directly in front of the church seemed to be a sign from God: an invitation to park. I pulled in, got out and approached the town's newest visitor.

'Looking for the pastor?' I asked.

'Not really,' he replied, 'just resting.'

'Have you eaten today?'

'Oh, I ate something yesterday morning.'

'Would you like to have dinner with me this afternoon?'

'Do you have some work I could do for you?'

'No work,' I replied 'I commute here to work from Jindabyne, but I would like to take you to dinner.'

'Sure,' he replied with a smile.

As he began to gather his things, I asked some questions. 'Where you headed?'

' Wherever my legs will carry me '

'Where you from?'

'Oh, all over; mostly outback Lightning Ridge NSW.?

'How long you been walking?'

'Fourteen years,' came the reply.

I knew I had met someone unusual. We sat across from each other in the same restaurant I had left earlier in the day. His face was weathered slightly beyond his 38 years. His eyes were dark yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and articulation that was startling. He removed his patched up jacket to reveal a bright red T-shirt that said, 'Jesus is The Never Ending Story.'

Then Daniel's story began to unfold. He had seen rough times early in life. He'd made some wrong choices and reaped the consequences. Fourteen years earlier, while backpacking across the country, he had stopped on the beach in Surfers Paradise in Queensland. He asked if he could get work with some men who were putting up a large tent and some equipment. A concert, he thought.                       

He was hired, but the tent would not house a concert but Christian revival services, and in those services he saw life more clearly. He gave his life over to God

'Nothing's been the same since,' he said, 'I felt the Lord telling me to keep walking, and so I did, some 14 years now.'

'Ever think of stopping?' I asked.

'Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get the best of me but God has given me this calling.  I give out Bibles. That's what's in my sack. I work to buy food and Bibles, and I give them out when His Spirit leads.'

I sat amazed. My homeless friend was not homeless. He was on a mission and lived this way by choice. The question burned inside me for a moment and then I asked: 'What's it like?'

'What?'

'To walk into a town carrying all your worldly possessions on your back and to show your sign?'

'Oh, it was humiliating at first. People would stare and make rude and degrading comments. Once someone tossed a piece of half-eaten sandwich in my face and made a rude gesture, which certainly didn't make me feel welcome.  But then it became humbling to know I wasn't alone and to realize that God was walking with me using me to touch others lives and change people's concepts of other folks like me.'

My concept was changing, too. We finished our dessert and gathered his few worldly things. Just outside the door, he paused and turned to me and said,   'Come Ye blessed of my Father and inherit the kingdom I've prepared for you. For when I was hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty you gave me drink, when a stranger and you took me in.'

I felt as if we were on holy ground. 'Could you use another Bible?' I asked.

He said he preferred a certain translation. It travelled well and was not too heavy. It was also his personal favourite. 'I've read through it 14 times,' he said.

'I'm not sure we've got one of those, but let's stop by our church and see'.  I was able to find my new friend a Bible that would do well, and he seemed very grateful.

'Where are you headed from here?' I asked.

'Well, I found this little map on the back of this travelling Circus coupon which is being held in Canberra.'

'Are you hoping to find some part time work for a while at the circus??   

'No, I just figure I should go there. I figure someone under that star right there needs a Bible, so that's where I'm going next.'

He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit radiated the sincerity of his mission. I drove him back to the Cooma Park, under the flag poles, where we'd met several hours earlier, and as we drove, it started snowing. We parked and unloaded his things out of the warmth of the heated air-conditioned car into the bleakness of the dark winter snowfall.
I offered him a warm bed for the night but he politely refused.  Where or how he would sleep that night I did not know?

'Would you sign my autograph book?' he asked.   'I like to keep messages from folks I meet.'

I wrote in his little book that his commitment to his calling had touched my life. I encouraged him to stay strong. And I left him with a verse of scripture from Jeremiah, 'I know the plans I have for you, declared the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you; Plans to give you a future and a hope.'

'Thanks, man,' he said. 'I know we just met and we're really just strangers, but I love you.'

'I know,' I said, 'I love you, too.' 'The Lord is good!'

'Yes, He is. How long has it been since someone hugged you?' I asked.

A long time ago when I was a child, just before my mother passed away, just before I went into the orphanage.' he replied

And so on the now quiet dimly lit deserted street corner in the heavy snowfall, my new friend and I embraced, and I felt deep inside that I had been changed. He put his things on his back, smiled his winning smile and said; 'See you in the New Jerusalem.'

'I'll be there!' was my reply.

He began his journey again. He headed away with his sign dangling from his swag and pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and said, "'When you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?'

Yes mate you can count on it,' I shouted back, 'God bless.'

'God bless.' And that was the last I ever saw of him.

Late that evening as I left my office, the icy chilled wind blew strong. The cold front had settled hard upon Cooma and the Snowy Mountains. I bundled up and hurried back to my car. As I sat back and reached to release the parking brake, I saw them.... a pair of well worn brown work gloves neatly laid over the length of the brake handle and wondered if his hands would stay warm that night without them.

Then I remembered his words: 'If you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?'

Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office.  They help me to see the world and its people in a new way, and they help me remember those few hours with my unique friend and to pray for his ministry. 'See you in the New Jerusalem,' he said. Yes, Daniel, I know I will...

'I shall pass this way but once. Therefore, any good that I can do or any kindness that I can show, let me do it now, for I shall not pass this way again.'


Remember The Lord's Prayer each day.

[Tassie]

Wishing all those that cherish this time of year a geat Christmas and good health and love for 2019 and beyond.
Regards

[DeputyDavid]

Merry Christmas everyone!

[jivvy]

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all.

[Tassie]

Merry Christmas
Regards

[Tassie]

Happy New Year
Regards