Carl's Garden
Carl was a quiet man. He didn't talk much. He would always greet you with a
big smile and a firm handshake. Even after living in our neighborhood for
over 50 years, no one could really say they knew him very well. Before his
retirement, he took the bus to work each morning. The lone sight of him
walking down the street often worried us. He had a slight limp from a
bullet wound received in WWII. Watching him, we worried that although he
had survived WWII, he may not make it through our changing
uptown neighborhood with its ever-increasing random 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 Carl offered the hose to him, the other two
grabbed Carl's arm, throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily over the
ground, dousing everything in its way, Carl's assailants stole his
retirement watch and his wallet, and then fled. Carl tried to get himself
up, but he had been thrown down on his bad leg. He lay there trying to
gather himself as the minister came running to help him.
Although the minister had witnessed the attack from his window, he couldn't
get there fast enough to stop it.
"Carl, are you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking as he helped
Carl to his feet. Carl just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking
his head.
"Just some punk kids. I hope they'll wise-up someday." His wet clothes clung
to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the hose. He adjusted the nozzle
again and started to water.
Confused and a little concerned, the minister asked, "Carl, what are you
doing?"
"I've got to finish my watering. It's been very dry lately," came the calm
reply. Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right, the
minister could only marvel. Carl was a man from a different time and place.
A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before their threat was
unchallenged. Carl again offered them a drink from his hose. This time they
didn't rob him. They wrenched the hose from his hand and drenched him head
to foot in the icy water. When they had finished their humiliation of
him, they sauntered off down the street, throwing catcalls and curses, falling
over one another laughing at the hilarity of what they had just done. Carl
just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth-giving sun, picked up
his hose, and went on with his
watering.
The summer was quickly fading into fall. Carl was doing some tilling when he
was startled by the sudden approach of someone behind him. He stumbled and
fell into some evergreen branches. As he struggled to regain his footing, he
turned to see the tall leader of his summer 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 Carl. As he
helped Carl get up, the man pulled a crumpled bag from his pocket and handed
it to Carl.
"What's this?" Carl asked.
"It's your stuff," the man explained. "It's your stuff back. Even the
money in your wallet."
"I don't understand," Carl said. "Why would you help me now?"
The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at ease. "I learned
something from you", he said. "I ran with that gang and hurt people like
you. We picked you because you were old and we knew we could do it. But
every time we came and did something to you, instead of yelling and fighting
back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn't hate us for hating
you. You kept showing love against our hate." He stopped for a moment. "I
couldn't sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back." He paused
for another awkward moment, not knowing what more there was to say. "That
bag's my way of saying thanks for straightening me out, I guess." And with
that, he
walked off down the street.
Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly opened it. He took
out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist. Opening his wallet,
he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment at the young bride
that still smiled back at him from all those years ago.
He died one cold day after Christmas that winter. Many people attended his
funeral in spite of the weather. In particular the minister noticed a tall
young man that he didn't know sitting quietly in a distant corner of the
church. The minister spoke of Carl's garden as a lesson in life. In a voice
made thick with unshed tears, he said, "Do your best and make your garden as
beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl and his garden."
The following spring another flyer went up. It read: "Person needed to care
for Carl's garden." The flyer went unnoticed by the busy parishioners until
one day when a knock was heard at the minister's office door. Opening the
door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and tattooed hands holding the
flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you'll have me," the young man said.
The minister recognized him as the same young man who had returned the
stolen watch and wallet to Carl. He knew that Carl's kindness had turned
this man's life around. As the minister handed him the keys to the garden
shed, he said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor him."
The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the flowers
and vegetables just as Carl had done. In that time, he went to college, got
married, and became a prominent member of the community. But he never forgot
his promise to Carl's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as
he thought Carl would have kept it.
One day he approached the new minister and told him that he couldn't care
for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and happy smile, "My wife
just had a baby boy last night, and she's bringing him home on Saturday."
"Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he was handed the garden shed
keys. "That's wonderful! What's the baby's name?"
"Carl," he replied.
If this touched you, take 60 seconds and give this a shot!
All you do is:
1. Simply ask God to bless the person who sent this to you. Ask Him to
enlarge this person's territory as they reach out in love to others.
Ask God to protect this person from evil that he or she may not cause pain.
2. Now...refer "Carl's Garden" to other people. Within hours people have
prayed for you, and you have caused a multitude of people to pray to God for
other people.
3. Sit back and watch the power of God work in your life for doing the thing
that you know He loves.
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