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<DIV>Thanks, Joey, for sharing this beautiful story.</DIV>
<DIV><FONT lang=0 size=3 face="Tropicali Script BTN Bamboo" FAMILY="SCRIPT"
PTSIZE="12"><STRONG>Steve Meyer<BR></STRONG></FONT><FONT lang=0 color=#000000
face=Arial FAMILY="SANSSERIF" PTSIZE="10"><FONT size=1 face="Arial Black">JCPS
TBVI</FONT></DIV>
<DIV>
<DIV>
<DIV><STRONG><FONT size=2></FONT></STRONG> </DIV>
<DIV><STRONG><FONT size=2>In a message dated 6/19/2011 10:36:22 A.M. Eastern
Daylight Time, joey.couch@gmail.com writes:</FONT></STRONG></DIV>
<BLOCKQUOTE style="PADDING-LEFT: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: 0px"><FONT
style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent" color=#000000 size=2
face=Arial><STRONG>Carl was a quiet man.. He didn't talk
much.<BR><BR><BR> He would always
greet you with a big smile and a firm handshake.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
Even after living in our neighborhood for
over 50 years,<BR><BR><BR> No one
could really say they knew him very well.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
Before his retirement, he took the bus to work
each morning.<BR><BR><BR> The lone
sight of him walking down the street often worried
us.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> He had a
slight limp from a bullet wound received in WWII.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
Watching him, we worried that although he
had survived WWII,<BR><BR><BR> He may
not make it through our changing uptown<BR>neighborhood with its
ever-increasing random violence, gangs, and
drug<BR>activity.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
When he saw the flyer at our local church asking for<BR>volunteers for caring
for the gardens behind the minister's residence,<BR>he responded in his
characteristically unassuming manner. Without<BR>fanfare, he just signed
up.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> He was well
into his 87th year when the very thing we had<BR>always feared finally
happened..<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> He was
just finishing his watering for the day when three<BR>gang members approached
him.<BR><BR><BR> Ignoring their
attempt to intimidate him, he simply asked,<BR><BR><BR>
"Would you like a drink from the
hose?"<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> The
tallest and toughest-looking of the three said, "Yeah,<BR>sure," with a
malevolent little smile.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
As Carl offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed<BR>Carl's arm,
throwing him down.<BR><BR><BR> As the
hose snaked crazily over the ground, dousing<BR>everything in its way, Carl's
assailants stole his retirement watch<BR>and his wallet, and then
fled.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> Carl tried
to get himself up, but he had been thrown down<BR>on his bad
leg.<BR><BR><BR> He lay there trying
to gather himself as the minister came<BR>running to help
him..<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> Although
the minister had witnessed the attack from his<BR>window, he couldn't get
there fast enough to stop it.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
"Carl, are you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept<BR>asking
as he helped Carl to his feet.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
Carl just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking his
head.<BR><BR><BR> "Just some punk
kids. I hope they'll wise-up someday."<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
His wet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent
to<BR>pick up the hose.<BR><BR><BR>
He adjusted the nozzle again and started to water..<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
Confused and a little concerned, the
minister asked,<BR>"Carl, what are you doing?"<BR><BR><BR>
"I've got to finish my watering. It's been very
dry<BR>lately," came the calm reply.<BR><BR><BR>
Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right,
the<BR>minister could only marvel.<BR><BR><BR>
Carl was a man from a different time and
place.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> A few
weeks later the three returned.. Just as before<BR>their threat was
unchallenged.<BR><BR><BR> Carl again
offered them a drink from his hose.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
This time they didn't rob him.<BR><BR><BR>
They wrenched the hose from his hand and drenched
him head<BR>to foot in the icy water.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
When they had finished their humiliation of him,
they<BR>sauntered off down the street, throwing catcalls and curses,
falling<BR>over one another laughing at the hilarity of what they had just
done.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> Carl just
watched them.<BR><BR><BR> Then he
turned toward the warmth giving sun, picked up his<BR>hose, and went on with
his watering.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> The
summer was quickly fading into fall Carl was doing<BR>some tilling when he was
startled by the sudden approach of someone<BR>behind him.<BR><BR><BR>
He stumbled and fell into some evergreen
branches.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> As he
struggled to regain his footing, he turned to see<BR>the tall leader of his
summer tormentors reaching down for him. He<BR>braced himself for the expected
attack.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> "Don't
worry old man, I'm not gonna hurt you this time."<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
The young man spoke softly, still offering
the tattooed<BR>and scarred hand to Carl. As he helped Carl get up, the man
pulled a<BR>crumpled bag from his pocket and handed it to
Carl.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> "What's
this?"<BR><BR><BR> Carl asked. "It's
your stuff," the man explained. "It's<BR>your stuff back.<BR><BR><BR>
Even the money in your wallet" "I don't
understand," Carl<BR>said. "Why would you help me
now?"<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> The man
shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at<BR>ease. "I learned something
from you," he said. "I ran with that gang<BR>and hurt people like you we
picked you because you were old and we<BR>knew we could do it But every time
we came and did something to you,<BR>instead of yelling and fighting back, you
tried to give us a drink.<BR>You didn't hate us for hating you. You kept
showing love against our<BR>hate."<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
He stopped for a moment. "I couldn't sleep after we
stole<BR>your stuff, so here it is back."<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
He paused for another awkward moment, not knowing
what<BR>more there was to say. "That bag's my way of saying thanks
for<BR>straightening me out, I guess." And with that, he walked off down
the<BR>street.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly<BR>opened it. He took
out his retirement watch and put it back on his<BR>wrist. Opening his wallet,
he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed<BR>for a moment at the young bride
that still smiled back at him from all<BR>those years
ago..<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> He died one
cold day after Christmas that winter. Many<BR>people attended his funeral in
spite of the weather.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
In particular the minister noticed a tall young man that<BR>he didn't
know sitting quietly in a distant corner of the
church.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> The
minister spoke of Carl's garden as a lesson in life.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
In a voice made thick with unshed tears, he
said, "Do your<BR>best and make your garden as beautiful as you can. We will
never<BR>forget Carl and his garden."<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
The following spring another flyer went up. It
read:<BR>"Person needed to care for Carl's garden."<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
The flyer went unnoticed by the busy
parishioners until<BR>one day when a knock was heard at the minister's office
door.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> Opening the
door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and<BR>tattooed hands holding the
flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you'll<BR>have me," the young man
said.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> The
minister recognized him as the same young man who had<BR>returned the stolen
watch and wallet to Carl.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
He knew that Carl's kindness had turned this man's
life<BR>around. As the minister handed him the keys to the garden shed,
he<BR>said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor
him."<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> The man
went to work and, over the next several years, he<BR>tended the flowers and
vegetables just as Carl had done.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
During that time, he went to college, got married,
and<BR>became a prominent member of the community. But he never forgot
his<BR>promise to Carl's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as
he<BR>thought Carl would have kept it.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
One day he approached the new minister and told him
that<BR>he couldn't care for the garden any longer. He explained with a
shy<BR>and happy smile, "My wife just had a baby boy last night, and
she's<BR>bringing him home on Saturday."<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
"Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he
was<BR>handed the garden shed keys. "That's wonderful! What's the
baby's<BR>name?"<BR><BR><BR><BR>
"Carl," he replied.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>
That's the whole gospel message simply
stated.<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR> So, say a
small prayer for the person who sent you this.<BR><BR><BR>
God, bless this person in whatever it is that You know
he<BR>or she may be needing this
day!<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>--
<BR>Joey Couch<BR>cell phone
606-216-8033<BR>email<BR>joey.couch@gmail.com<BR>or<BR>ki4vjd@arrl.net<BR>twitter
name @ki4vjd<BR>facebook joey.couch@gmail.com<BR>Skype name
joey6584<BR><BR>_______________________________________________<BR>Nfbk
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