Carls Garden

Something bad almost happened today but thank God for the 
story below to remind me of being gracious :)
It's quite a long passage but 
please do take some time to read it. quite touching :)

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.
During 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.

That's the whole gospel message simply stated.