Thursday, January 1, 2015

CHRISTMAS AT A GAS STATION

CHRISTMAS AT A 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'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 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
ones ." 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 that 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 reached for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to

him, "we got 1 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 pea 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 stopped crying, and looked at the cop "Sorry I shot

you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer." he said. " 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 & found the stranger had returned. "Where'd

you come from? I thought you'd 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 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 Jesus"



      This story is better than any greeting card. MERRY CHRISTMAS AND
GOD BLESS!




      Now clear the lump from your throat, blow your nose, and send this
along to a friend of yours or someone who may need a reminder as to why we
celebrate Christmas.






      Tomorrow is not promised, - Cherish today!

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