Father, give me the ability
to see good in unexpected
places and talents in
unexpected people. I ask for
 the grace to tell them so.
 AMEN
A Point to Ponder....
Anyone all wrapped up in
themselves is over dressed.
Thanks to "Lugnut48" for today's story.
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 WWII. Watching him, we
worried that although he had survived
WWII, he may not make it through
our changing uptown neighborhood
with its ever-increasing random
acts of 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 un-assuming 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 tormenters 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.