Andy 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 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 Andy offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed Andy's arm,
throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily over the ground, dousing
everything in its way, Andy's assailants stole his retirement watch and
his wallet, and then fled.
Andy 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.
"Andy, are you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking as he
helped Andy to his feet.
Andy 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, "Andy, what are you
doing?" "I've got to finish my watering. It's been very dry lately,"
came the calm reply.
Satisfying himself that Andy really was all right, the minister could
only marvel. Andy was a man from a different time and place.
A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before their threat was
unchallenged.
Andy 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.
Andy 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 Andy 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 Andy. As he helped Andy get up, the man pulled a crumpled bag from
his pocket and handed it to Andy.
"What's this?" Andy asked. "It's your stuff," the man explained. "It's
your stuff back. Even the money in your wallet." "I don't understand,"
Andy 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.
Andy 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 Andy'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 Andy and his
garden."
The following spring another flyer went up. It read: "Person needed to
care for Andy'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 Andy.
He knew that Andy'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 Andy's garden and honor him."
The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the
flowers and vegetables just as Andy had done.
During that time, he went to college, got married, and became a
prominent member of the community. But he never forgot his promise to
Andy's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Andy 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?"
"Andy," 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!
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 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 Andy offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed Andy's arm,
throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily over the ground, dousing
everything in its way, Andy's assailants stole his retirement watch and
his wallet, and then fled.
Andy 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.
"Andy, are you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking as he
helped Andy to his feet.
Andy 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, "Andy, what are you
doing?" "I've got to finish my watering. It's been very dry lately,"
came the calm reply.
Satisfying himself that Andy really was all right, the minister could
only marvel. Andy was a man from a different time and place.
A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before their threat was
unchallenged.
Andy 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.
Andy 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 Andy 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 Andy. As he helped Andy get up, the man pulled a crumpled bag from
his pocket and handed it to Andy.
"What's this?" Andy asked. "It's your stuff," the man explained. "It's
your stuff back. Even the money in your wallet." "I don't understand,"
Andy 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.
Andy 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 Andy'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 Andy and his
garden."
The following spring another flyer went up. It read: "Person needed to
care for Andy'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 Andy.
He knew that Andy'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 Andy's garden and honor him."
The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the
flowers and vegetables just as Andy had done.
During that time, he went to college, got married, and became a
prominent member of the community. But he never forgot his promise to
Andy's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Andy 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?"
"Andy," 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!
--
http://misfitscafe.com/Azbrujo
You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
__._,_.___
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
StumpySteve sez, I FOUND IT !!! After watching the following
video, you'll understand why i need to go on digest mail for
a while. I will be in touch with ALL of you personally soon.
==> Dying to Have Known - The Gerson Therapy
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-7357629140536485998
Does God Exist? ~ What does Freethinker Sam Harris say?
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/just4million/message/7244
"Independence is my happiness, ... my country is the
world, and my religion is to do good." ~ Thomas Paine
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
StumpySteve sez, I FOUND IT !!! After watching the following
video, you'll understand why i need to go on digest mail for
a while. I will be in touch with ALL of you personally soon.
==> Dying to Have Known - The Gerson Therapy
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-7357629140536485998
Does God Exist? ~ What does Freethinker Sam Harris say?
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/just4million/message/7244
"Independence is my happiness, ... my country is the
world, and my religion is to do good." ~ Thomas Paine
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
MARKETPLACE
.
__,_._,___
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