Janice and I extend our best wishes to you all, and please have a joyful and safe Christmas and New Year.
"CHRISTMAS AT THE GAS 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.It was
just
another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn'tfind a reason
to
celebrate. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had beenfalling
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 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 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
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.
"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
knowall
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."
Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.