Christmas Story

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 ." 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 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 anything'," 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 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 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 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 young 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 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 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. 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."

~ author unknown ~