"Carl's Garden"

                    Carl was a quiet man. He didn't talk much. He would
always greet you with a big smile and a firm handshake. Even after living in
our neighborhood for over 50 years, no one could really say they knew him
very well.

                  Before his retirement, he took the bus to work each
morning. The lone sight of him walking down the street often worried us. He
had a slight limp from a bullet wound received in W.W.II. Watching him, we
worried that although he had survived W.W.II, he may not make it through our
changing uptown neighborhood with its ever-increasing random violence,
gangs, and drug activity.

                    When he saw the flyer at our local church asking for
volunteers for caring for the gardens behind the minister's residence, he
responded  in his characteristically unassuming manner. Without fanfare, he
just signed up.

                    He was well into his 87th year when the very thing we
had always feared finally happened. He was just finishing his watering for
the day when three gang members approached him. Ignoring their attempt to
intimidate him, he simply asked, "Would you like a drink from the hose?" The
tallest and toughest-looking of the three said, "Yeah,  sure," with a
malevolent little smile. As Carl offered the hose to him,  the other two
grabbed Carl's arm, throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily over the
ground, dousing everything in its way, Carl's assailants stole his
retirement watch and his wallet, and then fled.

                    Carl tried to get himself up, but he had been thrown
down on his bad leg.  He lay there trying to gather himself as the minister
came running  to  help him. Although the minister had witnessed the attack
from his window, he couldn't get there fast enough to stop it. "Carl, are
you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking as he helped Carl to his
feet. Carl just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking his head.

                     "Just some punk kids. I hope they'll wise-up someday."
His wet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the hose. He
adjusted the nozzle again and started to water. Confused and a little
concerned, the minister asked, "Carl, what are you doing?" "I've got to
finish  my watering. It's been very dry lately," came the calm reply.
Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right, the minister could only
marvel.  Carl was a man from a different time and place.

                    A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before
their threat was unchallenged. Carl again offered them a drink from his
hose. This time they didn't rob him. They wrenched the hose from his hand
and drenched him head to foot in the icy water. When they had finished their
humiliation of him, they sauntered off down the street, throwing catcalls
and curses, falling over one another laughing at the hilarity of what they
had just done.

                    Carl just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth
giving sun, picked up his hose, and went on with his watering.   The summer
was quickly fading into fall. Carl was doing some tilling when he was
startled by the sudden approach of someone behind him.

                    He stumbled and fell into some evergreen branches. As he
struggled to regain his footing, he turned to see the tall leader of his
summer tormentors reaching down for him. He braced himself for the expected
attack.

                    "Don't worry old man, I'm not gonna hurt you this time."
The young man spoke softly, still offering the tattooed and scarred hand to
Carl. As he helped Carl get up, the man pulled a crumpled bag from his
pocket and handed it to Carl.

                    "What's this?" Carl asked.  "It's your stuff," the man
explained. "It's your stuff back. Even the money in your wallet." "I don't
understand," Carl said. "Why would you help me now?"

                    The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at
ease. "I learned something from you," he said. "I ran with that gang and
hurt people like you. We picked you because you were old and we knew we
could do it. But every time we came and did something to you, instead of
yelling and fighting back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn't hate us
for hating you. You kept showing love against our hate." He stopped for a
moment. "I couldn't sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back." He
paused for another awkward moment, not knowing what more there was to say.
"That bag's my way of saying thanks for straightening me out, I guess." And
with that, he walked off down the street.

                    Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly
opened it. He took out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist.
Opening his wallet, he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment
at the young bride that still smiled back at him from all those years ago.

                    He died one cold day after Christmas that winter. Many
people attended his funeral in spite of the weather. In particular the
minister noticed a tall young man that he didn't know sitting quietly in a
distant corner of the church. The minister spoke of Carl's garden as a
lesson in life. In a voice made thick with unshed tears, he said, "Do your
best and make your garden as beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl
and his garden."

                    The following spring another flyer went up. It read:
"Person needed to care for Carl's garden." The flyer went unnoticed by the
busy parishioners until one day when a knock was heard at the minister's
office door. Opening the door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and
tattooed hands holding the flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you'll have
me," the young man said.

                    The minister recognized him as the same young man who
had returned the stolen watch and wallet to Carl. He knew that Carl's
kindness had turned this man's life around. As the minister handed him the
keys to the garden shed, he said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and
honor him."

                    The man went to work and, over the next several years,
he tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done. In that time, he
went to college, got married, and became a prominent member of the
community. But he never forgot his promise to Carl's memory and kept the
garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it.

                    One day he approached the new minister and told him that
he couldn't care for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and
happy smile, "My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she's bringing him
home on Saturday."

                    "Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he was
handed the garden shed keys. "That's wonderful! What's the baby's name?"

                    "Carl," he replied.

                    That's the whole gospel message simply stated.

                    Take 60 seconds give this a shot! Let's just see if
Satan stops this one. All you do is:
                    1.   Simply say a small prayer for the person who sent
you this, (Father, God bless this person in whatever it is that You know he
or she may be needing this day!)
                    2. Then send it on to five other people. Within hours
five people have prayed for you, and you caused a multitude of people to
pray to God for other people. Then sit back and watch the power of God work
in your  life for doing the thing that you know He loves.

                    GOOD FRIENDS ARE LIKE ANGELS, YOU DON'T HAVE TO SEE THEM
TO KNOW THEY ARE THERE.......