(By JE Newton)
A medium-sized man of five feet six inches with brown and thinning hair, aged fifty-three, walked hesitantly into the small-town branch bank lobby. His head and face covered by a ski mask. In one hand was a pistol, and in the other was an empty paper grocery sack. He looked side to side nervously. In July heat, the ski mask caused the man no little discomfort, not to mention the fact it made him stand out. Yet, other than a fleeting glance by the patrons and tellers, nobody gave him much notice.
His turn came, and he approached the nearest teller, half stuttering, "Ga...ga...gimme all your ma...ma...money. I got a gun, and I...I...I ain't afraid ta use it." He raised the pistol shakily above the counter as proof. He sweated and breathed like a man running a marathon in the tropics.
The teller gave the man a look of pity while commenting, "Joel, honey, if I give you this money, you'll go to jail, and I won't be able to sleep at night. Now, you take that plastic gun and go home." The teller grabbed her purse under the counter and pulled a bill from the wallet. "Honey, here's five dollars. It's all I can spare, sweetie."
At those words, the other tellers and customers each pulled some money from their wallets and handed it to the man, Joel Brady.
Joel took the money and walked dejectedly from the bank. It was just one more failure on the constantly growing list. This last failure was the straw that broke the camel's back. Along with his life, he was empty. He walked across the parking lot and down the street with legs that felt filled with lead. He gave the plastic gun to a boy riding by on his bicycle. Then he tossed the ski mask in the drainage ditch. After another few feet, he sat down on the curb while his head slumped downward and cried. He cried harder than a hungry baby. People in the passing Cars made no attempt to stop, give aid, or inquire about the nature of his distress. Even the town policeman drove by without so much as slowing.
An hour...maybe two, passed sitting there. Joel didn't know nor care. Gathering his ebbing strength, Joel stood, wiped his red-wet eyes, and proceeded down the street. It was evening. No food had entered his mouth since finding those old half-rotted apples in the dumpster behind the store on Main Street two days ago. Evicted from a one-room shack a week earlier, there was no home to find sanctuary in.
Joel's childhood story read like a how-not-to-raise-kids book. His mother gave birth to him out of wedlock. His birth mirrored his conception and delivery. Joel's mother was not unkind or amoral, just a product of the manner of her upbringing. People with nothing tend to give away what they need to survive - called a giving heart. The father had an equal share in all this but disappeared into the darkness. What was conceived in love became a weight around her neck. Joel's birth brought on added expenses. Fortunately, she met a group of kind-hearted migrant farm workers traveling to the various harvests around the country. That became her life and, of course, Joel's life, too.
At a too-young age, Joel was picking fruit alongside his mother. To add insult to this dreary life, his mother died when Joel was twelve. He had little time to dwell on grief. He was forced to make adult decisions. After her death, he talked his way into rides to the next workplace as he had seen his mother do. He rode with any family with the luxury of an inch or two of extra space in their vehicle. As a young child, his pay was half that of the adults. It was a miserable existence.
Life lowered another notch as he became crippled with a spinal disease. Arthritis in his spine contracted around the nerves until he lived in constant debilitating pain and numbness in his back, hips, and legs. Health insurance was unattainable. The migrant life is outside society's boundaries. It is difficult for the average adult to comprehend that a 53-year-old man did not possess a Social Security Card, much less any working knowledge of the social security laws and provisions. Employers hiring the undocumented types that Joel hung with overlooked legalities such as Social Security Cards. Therefore this man at fifty-three was the picture of mental and physical exhaustion. Joel Brady didn't expect help nor ask for it. At least not until this moment. The person he asked was responding in a most unusual way.
At the moment referred to, he remembered the money people had given him at the bank. Pulling the crumpled wad from his pocket, he counted sixteen dollars and a piece of paper. It contained words that escaped him. He was illiterate except for the counting skills he learned to track the fruit he picked. Wadding the paper up, Joel was about to throw it away but decided to keep it, hoping to find someone to read it for him.
A hidden reserve of energy pulsed through his body, causing his steps to lighten as he set course for the convenience store down the street to buy much-needed food with the windfall in his hand.
Opening the door to the shabby convenience store, Joel was hit by the air conditioning. How invigorating it felt after the long trek in the summer heat. The scene taking place inside at the register shattered the cool-air high. Before him was a scene of a young lady of Mexican descent with an infant in her arms. She was pleading with the store owner to let her borrow enough gas to make it the last fifty miles down the highway to her sister's home.
With a calm and cold smile, the owner looked at the woman saying, "You wetbacks come into this country and take our jobs and steal from us. Then you turn around and try to con us out of our hard-earned money. Ain't no way I'm givin' you no free gas, Mexican. So, vamoose!"
Disheartened and insulted, the lady took a deep breath before asking if she could get some water from the bathroom sink for her baby. The answer was, "No, there ain't no free rides here, lady."
During this exchange, Joel strolled to the back of the store, where he knew the sandwiches were kept. He chose a low-grade tuna sandwich and a can of generic pop from the refrigerated case. The store's small size allowed him to stay tuned into the verbal exchange at the front. Meandering slowly to the register while looking at the food items lining the shelves and listening to the scene playing out at the register. Through all that, he could hear his stomach growl with hunger. Walking up to the back of the checkout line, he began looking back and forth between the lady, the baby, and the food. He argued with his conscience, "Aw man, just stay out of it. You ain't eaten in two days. Somebody will take care of her. It ain't my problem. I got problems of my own."
Joel was not one to take up causes, but this baby and stranded mother... A foreign feeling began to sweep over him. This feeling took his mind off his growling stomach. Something or someone had caused his thoughts to shift and concentrate on the fact that this was someone's daughter. That fact aroused a never-before-experienced fatherly feeling within him. She seemed so sincere, and the baby was in need of water. Joel looked around, half expecting to see a person behind him putting these alien thoughts into his head. It had always been about him. It had to be about him to survive in this cruel world.
Eventually, with a quiet sigh and a longing stare at the sandwich and the can of pop, he turned, walked back to the refrigerated case, and returned the sandwich to its former space. With that done, he opened the door to the case containing the chilled water bottles and took one large bottle out with a price sticker of one dollar. He walked back to the front as the woman walked out the door with tears running down her cheeks from the anger she felt. He felt like a man on a mission - a Godly mission. Never having been on the side of God, the thought sent a chill down his spine and overcame him with a sense of power.
As the owner stood there laughing and bragging about his actions to the next customer in line, Joel stealthily slid his hand to the spare penny dish by the register removing several coins. When it was his turn to check out, he put the water bottle on the counter. Gazing at the wad of money and the stolen change, he said, "Can I get this bottle of water and fifteen dollars worth of gas for sixteen dollars and eight cents? It's all I got on me."
The owner took the money, remarking, "That's okay, Jewel; it's only two cents short. I'll take that out of the spare change dish. I'll turn pump two on."
With his head in a submissive downward position but with gritted teeth, Joel corrected him, "It's Joel."
"What?"
"It's Joel, Joel Brady!"
Joel flew out the door at a gallop toward the lady and her baby, climbing into an old car that had seen better days. As he walked up to the pair, he said, "Ma'am, I gave the guy fifteen dollars for gas for your car. Here's some cold water for you and the baby. Sorry, that's all the money I got. Hope it gets you to your sister's house."
The young woman stared at Joel in disbelief while surveying this Samaritan for any hidden intent. Concluding by the look on his face that he was just a good-hearted man, she put her hand tenderly on his arm, saying earnestly, "God bless you, sir. I will repay you. Here...write your address on this piece of paper. Oh, my goodness. You are so kind. You have no idea what a good thing you are doing. The Lord must be smiling on you to help us like this."
"It ain't nothin'. Wish I had more. Will that water be okay for the baby? You don't need to repay me. I've been through tough times myself and needed help."
"You are such a kind man, but I must get your address to send you the money. I am truly grateful for this kind gesture."
"Uh...I'm afraid I got kicked out of my place a while back and don't have an address. I've been out of work, but I'll find somethin' soon." Joel said these things with a red-embarrassed face.
Seeing his embarrassment, her face softened even more. It took on that motherly look of concern. As she filled the baby bottle from the water bottle, she said, "My husband would kill me if he knew I took off without enough money. I'm Rosita. What is your name?"
"The name's Joel. Nice to meet you, ma'am. Sorry about the man in there. Suppose you gotta have a few like him to teach you how not to act."
Rosita was becoming impressed with the man before her. His crude exterior concealed his wisdom and kind heart. She began to get a sense that this was a special person. "Joel...that is a beautiful name. You say you don't have a home, Joel? Where do you sleep? Where is your family? You know Joel is a Biblical name. He was a prophet."
"I sleep Wherever there's a soft-flat spot. Usually, I sleep at the park." Seeing the shocked look on Rosita's face, Joel softened the remark with, "Oh, don't worry. I'm used to it. I've probably slept on the ground more than a bed. As far as a family, I have no idea. I wouldn't know what to do if I had a family. Laid awake many a night thinking about what kind of family I would like to have. But that's as far as I got toward havin' a family. You say Joel is in the Bible? He's a prophet? Wow."
Rosita handed the baby to Joel with instructions on holding the bottle while she pumped gas. She shot these words tersely at Joel, "Well, you got one now!"
"At this trusting gesture, Joel's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. The baby opened his eyes and smiled at him, melting Joel's heart. Joel muttered, "What do you mean by you got one now?"
While Rosita pumped the gas, she talked with great concern for Joel's welfare. "Joel, I've thought it over. You must come with me to my sister's house. You are welcome to stay until you can find a job and a place to live. When she and her husband hear the story of what you did for me and my baby, they will happily take you in." She didn't miss how softly and lovingly Joel held her baby. Neither did she miss the baby smiling at him. She had a hunch about this man and who had brought them together.
"No, ma'am, I can't do anything like that. You don't know me from Adam. I'll be fine. Say, can you read?"
"Yes. Why?"
"I've got this piece of paper somebody gave me. Could you read it for me?"
"For sure." He handed her the paper. "Let's see, it says, 'I've been through tough times myself and needed a helping hand from the Lord. Come to this address tomorrow morning, and I'll have a job for you. We'll see if we can get you a place to sleep till you get on your feet. God Bless You, Marv McHenry.' See, God is smiling at you. Let me write this address on paper so I can mail you the money."
Joel grabbed the paper. "Rosita...uh...ma'am, I don't want you to pay the money back. You'll rob me of a good deed. One of the few I've ever been able to do in my life."
After Rosita had finished pumping the gas, she took her baby. Both said their goodbyes, but just as she was about to jump into the car, she stopped, turned, and kissed Joel quickly on the cheek, leaving him stunned and flushed. He stared at the car as it drove away, thinking, "If I had a daughter, she'd be just like Miss Rosita."
Joel survived the night and made it to Marv's business the next day in a weakened state. Marv's word was gold. His wife made Joel a substantial breakfast. The job he gave him paid little, but a room to live in came with it, and the job was much easier on his deteriorating back than picking fruit. He felt like he was in heaven. The McHenry's were people that put little value on material things. They placed the highest value on other people and their spiritual well-being. Marv McHenry liked to say, "If a person has no material things, he'll get along. But, If a person has no love, he's dead."
Four years passed. Joel made little money answering the phone for Marv's small dump truck business. However, for the first time in his life, he was assured that he had a fixed bed at night and three square meals every day while he was able to work for the McHenry's. Another benefit was that Mrs. McHenry was a retired schoolteacher. She taught him to read and write. To her amazement, she found him to be a very eager and fast learner.
Good things were coming to Joel in his late years. But he knew this good situation wouldn't last forever. Life had always forced him to fight for the few pennies he managed to squeeze out of each job. As he forecasted, it lasted only a short time.
Marv passed away that fourth year. Mrs. McHenry decided to sell the trucks and the home. She made plans with her family to make a move to her daughter's home. It was a sad time for everyone. Soon, Joel would be homeless again. He never brought up the subject of his impending peril. Managing to save a small sum, Joel knew in the back of his mind that it wouldn't last long. This was how he had always lived. Overthinking it was detrimental. Those thoughts would turn into nightmares - if he allowed them to overtake his mind. He put on that much-practiced impassive face. This was his lot in life. He didn't dwell on the fact that Mrs. McHenry never brought up the subject of his homelessness. That would hurt. His life had little space for deep feelings or self-pity.
The day of Mrs. McHenry's move came all too soon. As I have related, Joel wasn't sad about the looming homelessness. He was sorry for Mrs. McHenry's loss of her husband, Joel's good friend, and that he would probably never see this kind lady again. The lady that had done so much to improve his life.
Hobbling around on his cane, Joel helped in any way he could with loading Mrs. McHenry's furniture into the rental truck. As the loading went on, a large shiny new SUV pulled into the parking lot. Out stepped a tall and well-dressed man wearing a cowboy hat and boots. He made his way to the group of people around the moving truck.
All work stopped with eyes turned toward the stalwart man as he stopped in front of them, saying, "I'm lookin' for a man by the name of Joel...Joel Brady."
Joel's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He glanced toward Mrs. McHenry, who strangely had a sly grin, before replying, "My name's Joel."
"I got a beef to pick with you, sir."
Joel stepped back as he said, "Hey, I ain't done nothin' to nobody."
"That's not what I've been told. About four years ago, you refused payback for saving my wife and baby son. I'm here to right that wrong. What you gotta say for yourself?"
At that moment, a lady that Joel recognized immediately as Rosita stepped out of the SUV along with a good-looking boy and walked toward Joel.
The man before him extended his hand and introduced himself, "Joel, I'm Juan Morales, and it is with great pleasure that I meet the man that did such a great deed for my wife and son when they were in a challenging situation." He grabbed Joel's hand, shaking it intensely, then threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly. At the same time, Rosita walked up and put her arms around him.
With tears in her eyes, Rosita said, "Joel, I am so sorry it took so long to make it back to you, but through Mrs. McHenry, we have been keeping an eye on you. At the time we met, Juan was in the army. Life was so difficult with him in Afghanistan for two years. I see God has smiled on you until we could get back to you, my friend."
Joel's well-hidden emotions were escaping their hiding place. His eyes were filling with tears. He was too choked up to speak. In fact, everyone there wore red eyes.
Even the big, tough-looking Juan was beginning to have difficulty speaking, "Joel, Mrs. McHenry kept a good secret. She is a great lady. We are here today to tell you that it would please us greatly if you came to live with us as part of our family. My mother and father passed away several years ago. I would consider it an honor if you would adopt us as your family and be a grandfather to our children. It would also displease me greatly if you refused." Everyone laughed.
Joel stuttered, "Uh...I...uh...didn't do nothin' to deserve this. Anyone would have done the same thing. It was only sixteen dollars, and that was given to me."
Juan puffed up as he angrily rebutted Joel, "Well, evidently not. That guy working the store and the other customers there didn't help, and, to add insult to injury, called my wife a wetback. Man...and me risking my life in Afghanistan to protect the freedoms of people like him. Thank God for a brave citizen like you. You, my friend... Sorry, tough to talk about it... You, my great friend, we found out you gave the only money between you and starvation to Rosita for gas and water for my baby boy. All that when you hadn't eaten in at least two days and had nowhere to sleep." Juan put his hand on Joel's shoulder, looking him red eye to red eye to emphasize the following words, "Seriously, Joel, You are the most humble man I have ever met. You really don't understand what a great thing you did. Rosita told me you are a Godly man. She didn't exaggerate one bit."
Joel was not accustomed to being described in terms anywhere near those being used by Juan. They sounded so foreign, yet so uplifting and loving. He was beginning to feel emotions such as he had never before in his life experienced. He was starting to feel loved. It felt better than he had ever imagined.
Rosita smiled and cried harder at Juan's words. She put her arms around Joel, saying, "Joel, Juan, and my sister's husband have a construction company. When their employees heard what you did that day..." Sobbing hard, Rosita took a moment to gain some control. "Sorry, like Juan said, it makes us very emotional to talk or think about it. The employees all donated their time and labor to build the most beautiful little cottage behind our home, and it's just for you. The rest of your new family is waiting to give you a wonderful welcome home. And, before he tears my leg off, this is my son, Michael. He knows all about you. The little one in my tummy is Joel Morales, for his god-grandfather."
Michael threw his arms around Joel's leg. In spite of his back and the pain, Joel bent down, scooped him up into his arms, and hugged him tightly. To be loved and have a real family for the first time in his life... That was it. Joel broke down and was out of commission. All he could do was whisper between sobs, "All I asked for was a bed at night and some food each day, God. Thank you."
