The Filling Station
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, 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 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." 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 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. 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 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. 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."
~~Author Unknown
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BE HONEST
Even if others are not
Even if others will not
Even if others cannot
"He who walks honestly walks securely."
Proverbs 10:9
A message from The Brotherhood of Christian Businessmen and Professionals.
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