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The
Christmas Eve Visitor
The
old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't
been anywhere in years since his wife 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, 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.
George
turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave em
the truck. Their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand
new........" 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.
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, "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 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. 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
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 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 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
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 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."
~Author
Unknown~ |
