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't find a reason to celebrate.

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, 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 wn 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 ." 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 ben here 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

'y. God 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 mn. "Sn, 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 youn 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 aid, "Mrry 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? Yu keep tat 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.

Thepoliceman 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



Dean Masters, owner of the Masters List

The Lord is my light and my salvation.
If he is yours, join us on the Masters List
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