[Nfbk] God Bless

[Joey Couch]

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 WWII.




            Watching him, we worried that although he had survived WWII,


            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.




            During 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.




            So, say a small prayer for the person who sent you this.


            God, bless this person in whatever it is that You know he
or she may be needing this day!






















-- 
Joey Couch
cell phone 606-216-8033
email
joey.couch at gmail.com
or
ki4vjd at arrl.net
twitter name @ki4vjd
facebook joey.couch at gmail.com
Skype name joey6584