Help, I'm Blind!

 

 

 

By JE Newton

 Note:

     A person of solid faith usually has an extraordinary effect on those around them. As you shall see, God assigns that faithful follower some very tough tasks at times, but who else would he give it to. This story is about one of those onerous tasks that take what Paul talks about in the Bible, perseverance, and does what Paul said that perseverance would do, build character. It is a meeting of two different ends of the economic spectrum in life.Confidence in one's own self doesn't equal  faith in God and trust in his ability to carry you through.

 

 

 

      Robert sat alone and up to his neck in self-pity with the thought in his head that life stinks! Life was beating Rob to a pulp with its boredom. 

The waitress set a cup of coffee in front of him, asking, "Can I get you anything else, sir?"

     Rob answered with a silent negative nod while staring straight ahead into nothingness.

     At that moment, across town, a young man named Richie sat in a coffee shop up to his neck in empathy for the waitress. Her husband had abandoned her with three small children to support with her meager salary at the coffee shop. He felt embarrassed and felt a need to apologize for his life of abundance.

     Let me give you some background on these two individuals to help you understand their respective views on life. Robert was born into a wealthy and prominent family. Life had been served to him on a silver platter. He never knew a want for money or any of life's necessities. After graduating from an Ivy League college, his father gave him a high position in one of his many companies. The job came with a big title, an enormous office, and a personal secretary. His usual quip to that secretary upon his arrival in the morning was something along these lines, "Yeah, yeah, good morning. This sucks. I'd rather be back home in bed." Robert was not a bad person. He merely had a void in an area that, in most people, contains a cause worth living for and, if necessary, worth dying for.  

     Richie Boudreau, son of William, Willie as friends referred to him, and Cynthia Boudreau, was born into a lower-middle-class black family of strong Christian faith. Finances were a constant struggle for his parents, but love was abundant. At six, Richie lost both legs after a horrible car accident. His parents spent long hours discussing how to approach his upbringing. They took what appeared at first glance to be a harsh and heartless approach to the issue: they never let him feel sorry for himself. They told him the Lord does everything for a good reason. Willie and Cynthia drilled into his head and his life how his disability would become his strength and a blessing to him and others. But only if he developed the right attitude, which they ensured he did. To an outsider, Richie's parent's rules seemed cruel, but those people were unaware of the loving motives behind the action. What a payoff and a good man their tough love built, a man that towered above those around him. Richie was quite capable of creating others into towers of love, faith, and capability.

     The couple living across the hall from Richie gave me this snippet that summed him up. "Occasionally, Richie and I walk out the door for work simultaneously. On this particular day, it was raining cats and dogs. I was not happy about the rain. I had to walk in the rain to my car and then across the parking lot to my office. This was going to be a wet miserable day for me. Richie opens the door of his place with his usual animated smile and swaying side to side on those artificial legs, saying, 'Isn't God's rain beautiful? It restores the world and makes it shine! Don't it make you feel so alive?' By the way, Richie works outside most of the day. I looked at him with his handicap and the job outside in this hard rain, thinking, I have no reason to be in a sour mood. Every time my wife and I see him, he uplifts us." 

     Who has true wealth? Is Robert's life trash and shallow? Currently, yes, but not unsalvageable. God has a way of salvaging wrecks.

     Robert Redmond had the best education money could buy. His mother and father, Lydia and Max Redmond, wanted to add real-life education to that education. Well aware of his arrogant and entitled attitude, the two of them put their heads together. They developed a plan to achieve that real-life education and, hopefully, get their good son back. It was a long-shot gamble. 

     Lydia and Max Redmond were born into modest circumstances. The high society scene was never on their agenda. Neither of them had difficulty making friends but had little patience for the superficial relationships needed to climb the social ladder. How their son acquired his arrogance is not the story...it's how he lost it.

     Max loved golf as an instrument to escape the constant phone calls and people tugging at his coattails. Numerous stories were floating around the gossip mill at the golf course of people spotting him under a tree alongside the fairway sound asleep. Max will give you a wink at this but will never deny the stories. The game matters little to him. Golf is genuinely his escape mechanism. 

     His true friends say that intelligence and sincerity, combined with the man being comfortable with who he is, made Max a success. However, that description leaves out the quality that any successful self-made man must possess...cunning. Max had a large reserve of this quality and planned to use it to put the finishing touch on his son's education.

     It was a Monday morning in June when Richie bounced into his office at the golf course with that headlight smile that lit up all before him. Surprisingly, his office was empty. A guest should have been seated here awaiting his arrival. Robert Redmond was nowhere to be found inside or outside the office. Richie wasn't as surprised as he put on. Mr. Redmond had supplied a complete dossier on his son.

     At ten o'clock, two hours late, Robert's BMW Z4 roared down the narrow road that wound through the trees to the maintenance building where Richie, the Greenskeeper, had his office. Two workers nearby loaded fertilizer onto a trailer. Their task was stopped by Robert's approach. They stared in awe as the hot sports car stopped in front of them. The man who exited the BMW drew even more gasps than his car. His hair was coifed in the latest style, while his eyes were dressed extravagantly in custom-made sunglasses. Robert was attired in a suit and shoes one knowing worker described as "...one of those high-dollar Italian custom-jobs with the high-dollar handmade shoes to match. 

007 in person. Man! That guy is wearing more money than I make in a year."

     Robert suavely strutted into the large maintenance building and stopped. He pulled his sunglasses down low on his nose, peering and slowly rotating his head to take in the building's interior. 

     Through a large picture window in front of his desk, Richie took this opportunity to analytically watch and assess Robert. Richie, the Greenskeeper versus the best-dressed man ever to step foot on a golf course - to do manual labor. Let the battle begin.   

     Having arranged the assessment results in his mind, Richie clomped out his office door to greet Robert. Richie let out a, "Well, hello! You must be Robert. I'm Richie Boudreau."

Robert turned and, entirely removing his sunglasses, looked at Richie, starting at his legs and working upward with a stuffy look on his face. "Yeah, that would be me, Robert Redmond. My dad asked me to tour the place and learn how the low-level end of the business is run."

     Richie smiled a non-surprised kind of smile that contained a touch of slyness in it. "You bet, Robert. Now, I hope you brought some work clothes because you will also be working and getting mighty dirty while you are touring the place. You know...to help you get to know the low-level end of the business."

     Robert lost his cool quickly, but there was something so calm, so authoritative about Richie. Richie never raised his tone of voice. He was, as always, surrounded by an aura of steadfastness.  

     The two workers loading fertilizer were enjoying the scene before them. The men had opened their water bottles and taken a seat on the trailer's side rails. Watching Richie so smoothly handle Mr. Redmond's son, they were getting a thrill. He presented a conflicting image compared to the old man, his dad. Unbeknownst to his son, Max Redmond was an extremely popular and respected man among the grounds crew, who were on a first-name basis with the executive. The crew chuckled as Robert emerged from the bathroom wearing an old set of hand-me-down coveralls. These were kept around for emergencies. 007 had an angry look, which he would keep for several days. 

     Richie knew he had won the first battle but wasn't smug. He knew a war consists of many battles.

     Robert's summer-work life would be at the course per his father's strict do-it-or-lose-your-job orders. Robert had intelligence hidden beneath that lousy attitude. He could tell his father was deadly serious about this summer of torture. He wanted his son to learn the business from bottom to top. Max considered Richie to be the best man for the job of teacher. He and Richie were good friends, a fact unknown to Robert. 

     Max knew Richie would win in a collision with his son. He had experienced the extreme pleasure of witnessing Richie transform a tycoon in a drunken rage into a whimpering baby asking for forgiveness and a second chance on multiple occasions. Those stories were enough to turn him into a legend among the members. But when you add to that the trait that Richie was humble and powerful in his faith, you have all the ingredients of a future leader that would tower over others. As I have shown, Max wasn't stupid; Richie was being groomed for far better things.  

     Richie walked out of his office upon seeing Robert exit the bathroom. "Stan, show Robert the ropes of pushing a fertilizer spreader over a few acres. Robert, you look much better in those overalls. We don't want our patrons thinking we are overpaying the hired hands."

     The week passed with several confrontations between Richie and Robert over Robert's slack performance of his assigned duties. Robert's arrogance ran up against Richie's bull-like perseverance time after time. "You're not here to get your nose wiped. Time and again, "You're here to learn," Richie would say in response to Robert's tirades over the rugged and sweat-provoking labor. 

     For Richie, this was no contest compared to learning to walk on artificial legs and trying to override his father's demands of perfection that a person with two legs couldn't uphold. Every time he fell, he begged to quit, but his father made him stand up again without help. Inside, this had hurt his father, but he knew it would prepare him for a successful future on his own. 

      At quitting time on Friday, Richie took Robert aside. "I'll pick you up at seven o'clock in the morning. I'm gonna take you fishing."

     "I do not fish. Furthermore, I do not work Saturdays, much less get up before noon."

     "I do, and, according to your dad, so will you. I'll be there at seven." He walked off, leaving an angered Robert standing by himself.

     Bam, bam, bam, the door sounded like it was being hit with a hammer. Robert rushed to the front door of his posh high-rise pad. In a sleepy-eyed haze, he opened the door to see the unwelcome sunshine smile on Richie's face.

     "Up and at 'em. We're burning daylight. Let's go! We've got things to do, places to go, and people to see. Let's go!"

     I'll leave out Robert's expletives and refusals and just tell you he was in Richie's old van within ten minutes of the appointed time.

     Leaning with sleep-filled eyes against the van's window, Robert complained, "Where are we going in this old rattle-trap at this ungodly hour of the morning? You're taking this boss thing way beyond the job boundaries. My father will hear about this, and you'll be looking for work."

     "Robert, my friend, we are on our way to pick up some of the greatest kids you'll ever meet. They will melt your heart and change your life totally. And - they love to fish, my friend. We do this just about every Saturday morning in the summer. It's time you thought about someone besides number one."

     "I don't fish now - never have in the past - and never will in the future!"

"Well, that is the last time you can say that and not be a liar."

     They pulled up in front of the church to twelve rowdy children and their parents. The children were exceptional. They all had what is referred to as Down Syndrome. These children loved Richie and his unique legs, his robot legs. In fact, they loved everyone and everything. Robert Redmond was about to put that statement to the test. But, in reality, he never stood a chance.

     Robert did not have time to complain about anything once he slid lazily out of the van. The kids attacked him with questions, hugs, and screams of excitement. He was squeezed, punched, and pushed till he let out a cry for mercy that went unheeded amid the tremendous uproar of goodbyes from parents, screams of excitement from twelve overzealous children, and loading orders being shouted. 

     In the aftermath of the chaotic boarding of the children and buckling them into their seatbelts, Richie looked for Robert. He spotted him in the very back of the van with a boy on one side that had him in a headlock as he screamed in his ear and, on the other side, a boy licking his arm. Richie saw a look of terror on Robert's face but wasn't concerned; that would change when he got to know them better. Till then, Robert's life would just have to be different. Richie jumped into the driver's seat and, with a loud "Yahoo," sped off toward the lake.

     Above the thunderous roar of the children, Richie began to make out what sounded like a plea for help, and it sounded like Robert. Looking into the rearview mirror, he yelled, "You say something, Robert?"

     "Yes, I must have a cup of Starbucks coffee, or I will not make it. Please, Richie, all kidding aside, I really need it."

     "Sure, man, I'll stop up on Sheridan. There's a Starbucks there. You're looking a little strung out. You gonna make it?"

     The old van pulled into a parking spot at the busy Starbucks. Richie turned and asked the kids, "Who wants to go into Starbucks and get coffee? Mr. Robert wants to buy everyone a big cup of coffee!"

     The van erupted like a volcano as the kids began throwing the seatbelts to the side, jumping up and down on the seats, and attacking Robert with hugs and screams.

     Robert let out a horrified, "You're not gonna buy all these crazy kids coffee!"

     "Nope...like I said...you are. Let's go get coffee, guys."

By the time the gang arrived at the lake, Robert had been half-scalded to death by his own coffee. His clothes were covered in stains from the kid's iced lattes that they seemed to take great joy in pouring on him instead of drinking. He was too exhausted to complain anymore. All he could do was capitulate and let the kids drag him along. 

     While unloading the fishing poles from the top of the van, Richie glanced at Robert, haplessly being dragged along. It gave him a slightly morbid delight. As he watched the show, Richie took pictures with his phone and forwarded them to a person known only to himself. The response to the images came back as, "No more pictures, we're laughing so hard, we are about to die."

     After distributing the poles and getting all the hooks fitted with worms, Richie turned to Robert saying, "Man, you have got to grow up. Buying that coffee for all the kids just wired them up. You can't give kids coffee. 

     The guy that usually comes with me on these outings has me go to the McDonald's drive-thru, and he buys everyone a kid's meal that we eat at those picnic tables over there. It's really orderly, and they love those Happy Meal breakfasts. You should reconsider how you deal with children."

     "But I..."

     "I appreciate you volunteering to take the regular guy's place when he couldn't make it today, but you gotta act like an adult around kids or they'll take advantage of you. You gotta show some maturity, my man." 

     "But I didn't..."

     "Yeah, the other dude is really cool, and the kids love him."

     "But you..."

     Richie walked away at that point to help the kids re-bait their hooks and praise the one that caught a small fish, leaving Robert shaking his head while staring in wonder. Surely, he was in the Twilight Zone.

     Monday morning, Richie's van rolled slowly down the road to the maintenance building as he did his usual morning inspection of the course and grounds. He had not traveled far when he brought the van to a sudden halt. He put it in reverse and backed up. There was Robert, trimming hedges along the road. Checking his watch, it was six thirty, and Robert was already at it. Placing the van in park, he climbed out and walked over to Robert.

     "I thought I was seeing things. Robert, are you okay?"

     Robert didn't look up. He kept running the electric hedge clippers over the hedges. At the same time, he spoke, "I figure the quicker I obey your tyrannical demands, the quicker I'm out of this place."

Inside, he was boiling, but outside, Richie's smile grew even more prominent with that remark. "It's not just obeying, my man. It's putting a little heart into the job. Look at the mess you've made of this beautiful hedge. Would you hire someone that did slovenly work like this? Put the trimmers down and walk over here to me."

     Robert complied in a what-now way.

     When Robert stood in front of him, Richie said, "You see that sign over there?"

     "Yeah, why?"

     "On the count of three, I'm going to race you to that sign."

     "Robert looked down at Richie's legs and then up to his face remarking with a laugh, "I was a sprinter in college. There's no way you're gonna beat me."

     "We'll see. Get ready. One...two...three...go!"

     Robert won decisively with a haughty attitude. Richie clomped and hobbled slowly but determinedly the entire distance till he finished.

     Breathing heavily, Richie turned to Robert with an unusually stern look, saying, "I knew that I couldn't beat you, but that is not the point. The point is this, I gave it my best effort. My father taught me that whatever I do, I give my best effort, and I will never have to be ashamed. Are you incapable of understanding that you don't have to finish first to be a winner? Being a winner is in the effort, the heart, and the pride in knowing that you gave it your best shot. How a man carries out the simplest tasks indicates what he has inside himself and how he'll handle the important tasks when they are placed on his shoulders." With that said, Richie turned and walked away, leaving Robert, surprisingly, silent and hanging his head.

     At the end of the work day, Robert walked into Richie's office and sat beside his desk. "Richie, I owe you an apology for this morning."

     "No, sir, you do not owe me an apology. You owe your mom and dad an apology for embarrassing them. They love you and want to be proud of you, but you act like a brainless idiot with no sign of ever being anything but a self-serving slug. You're mom and dad gave you all the tools needed to make you a good person and a success. Instead, you spit in their face with your me-me-me attitude. If you feel a need to apologize to someone, apologize to them. Your dad used to walk up to anyone that would give him the time of day and show them pictures of you. He would tell them how wonderful a son you are. Your mom bragged continuously about her genius baby boy. And while we're on the subject of apologies, those kids you think are no better than a dull pain in your neck talk about you constantly, like you're some kind of hero. Hah! Those kids can only dream without hope of having the abilities and opportunities you have before you. No, you don't owe me an apology." 

     Robert stood slowly with a shock coming from the sudden realization that everything Richie said was true. He walked out of the office without another word. Richie wasn't angry, just worried about Robert and his lack of caring about anything but his personal happiness. He was beginning to understand why Max and Lydia were so fearful about the change in Robert's life vision during his college years.  

     Saturday morning, Richie pulled into the church parking lot to an astonishing sight. Robert was standing in the middle between the parents and the kids and talking and laughing with them. He pulled the van to a stop at the usual location and hopped out. Immediately, Robert began loading the kids and buckling them in.  

     Wearing that trademark smile, Richie walked up to Robert lightheartedly, asking, "I didn't expect to ever see you here again. Are we stopping at Starbucks this morning?"

     Robert stopped what he was doing and answered, "No, I think the Mcdonald's drive-thru would be the better choice."

     The kids were loaded in a much improved and orderly manner. The van rolled away with the usual waves and shouts of goodbye. Meanwhile,   

     Robert sat next to Richie in front this time. He looked at Richie, saying in a serious yet gentle tone, "Why didn't you tell me Dad was the one that usually accompanies you on these trips?"

     "You never asked. All you thought about that Saturday was your precious sleep and your coffee. Did he tell you?"

     "Mom did. I can't believe I never knew he was doing something like this...my dad."

     "Makes you proud, doesn't it? The weekly summer fishing trip with these kids is important to your dad. He loves these kids, and they love him. He bought all the fishing equipment...do you know that? Of course, you don't. There are a lot of things about your dad that you don't know. Things that would make you even prouder of him, but he prefers to do those good things anonymously. Another thing, do you know that he's a man of deep and quiet faith? No? He's not a regular church-goer. He says sitting there while the preacher talks put him to sleep. But that doesn't stop him from donating tremendous sums to my church missions or stop him leading the kids in prayer before the meals."

     Robert stared at Richie with a faraway look. He was trying to absorb a tremendous amount of life-changing information in a short period of time. What he learned made him feel so ignorant, so stupid, so...self-worshipping.

     Thrusting his head into his hands, he blurted out, "Help, I'm blind! I must be blind. All this has been going on around me, and I saw nothing. How can I be so blind, Richie?"

     Richie kept his concentration on the road. He was driving a van with precious cargo. He didn't need to lose concentration. Poor Robert had been hit by the blinding light of Christ. Richie calmly said, "Robert, it's okay. We all grow up at different times and at different ages. You're a good man, Robert. Your parents and I knew a good heart was behind that stone facade. You gotta keep it together for now. We've got a vanload of kids entrusted to our care. I need your help."

     Robert took a deep breath, then unbuckled his seat belt and, turning to the kids, said, "Hey, you guys ready for McDonalds?"

     Richie smiled and let out a loud sigh of relief, remarking half to himself,      

     "Paul wants to know who this new man next to me is."

     Richie drove along the road to the maintenance building this beautiful Monday morning, doing his routine inspection. Despite his attention to business, his thoughts drifted to this being Robert's last week at the course. His thoughts focused on how different Robert was, as a human being, compared to the day he first arrived. His father had been burning Richie's ears almost daily with compliments on the change, but Richie would have none of it. He loved challenging assignments, especially when they dealt with helping others conquer their problems. All people have good hearts, but many have built facades to protect them against life's difficulties. He loved tearing away the built-up layers to get at that beautiful heart. Besides, helping others was the best way to make you forget about your problems. "Right, Dad?" 

Richie walked into his office and immediately noticed a new computer and printer set up with an envelope taped to the tower that read: Richie, do not use till you read these instructions.

He took the envelope and sat down at his desk. Inside the envelope was a handwritten letter. Leaning back in his chair, he began to read.

 

Dear Richie, my Teacher and Friend,

     I decided to handwrite this so you would know that I didn't have my secretary compose and write it. I'm stepping out of my old comfort zone. 

I'm taking this last week off. I desperately need to accomplish some things that should have been done long ago. First, the computer is loaded with all the programs you will need to track your budgets, personnel, daily/yearly maintenance schedules, etc. It will save time and be more efficient than the old handwritten method I watched you labor over. The accounting section is sending a man to you today to train and work with you on loading all the data. He or she will work with you for as long as needed to get you proficient in its use. I know you have the intelligence to learn the process. Remember what you taught me, you don't have to come in first place to win. You just have to give it your best effort.

The keys in the envelope are a secret between you and me. They go to a new van. Don't worry; it's paid for along with the insurance. That old van of yours is not safe for the kids to ride in, and a man in your position shouldn't be driving around in a jalopy like that. Remember, keep this between you and me. Tell everyone that you bought it. If not, you'll ruin my chance to do something, for a change, that doesn't have me written all over it.

     Regarding your Greenskeeper position, Dad and I had a long talk without yelling. He wants me to take a new position as VP of Accounting. Why? I don't know. I have done nothing to deserve it, apart from the fact that I'm the spoiled son of the boss. In my place as Director of Golf Courses, I suggested you. Dad shot that down...unless I gave you a lot more money than I had been making. He said you would do an honest day's work in that position. We're giving you a month to get comfortable with the new system and teach it to your successor. Then you will move into the office I am vacating.

     Richie, don't think you're rid of me. Dad said he thinks it's time he retired from the fishing business and turned it over to someone that could give it more energy. I'll be there next summer for fishing season with the kids. Maybe I'll be able to take a few fishing lessons from you between now and then. 

     God bless you, my friend. You taught me more in one summer than I learned in four years at that Ivy League college. Thank you for the miracle of sight.

     Your Friend and Student, Robert Redmond

     PS You're getting rid of those old prosthetic legs and getting some new ones, even if I have to buy them myself. They make some that would enable you to ALMOST beat me in a sprint.

 

The Sixteen Dollar Bank Robbery

 

 

(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."

Finish the Race!

 

     When your legs get tired, run with your heart and let the Holy Spirit fill you with power. "If it doesn't challenge you, it won't change you." (Frank DeVito) Hopefully, we'll all be able to say what Paul said in 2 Timothy 4:7 at the end of our lives, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." "Crossing the starting line may be an act of courage, but crossing the finish line is an act of faith." (John Bingham) 

     "Do you honestly believe that Jesus felt like being crushed and overwhelmed in the middle of thousands of needy people everyday while telling them over and over the Good News that few seemed to listen to much less to understand, and all that time, knowing what lay in store for him on that cross?  That's what my God-fearing Grandfather told me one morning when I was a little kid while I objected to getting out of bed to volunteer at a soup kitchen. My Grandfather that had both his legs blown off in Normandy during WWII and never said no to the call."

OH HOLY NIGHT - The Joslin Music Group

 OH HOLY NIGHT  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mikjcrApXkw 

Every night is holy with faith in our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ