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forword from a freind

Started by tnlogger, July 30, 2006, 10:17:46 AM

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tnlogger

I received this from a friend of mine this morning and thought I would share it with everyone.



>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 W.W.II.
>
>Watching him, we worried that although he had survived W.W.II, 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.
gene

PawNature

Just stopped to see what was new before heading out the door to church. Makes a person think. I claim to be a Christian, and I know exactly what I would have done in carls situation.  Still, maby I won't be such a jerk next time something small happens.
GOVERMENT HAS WAY TO MUCH CONTROL OVER OUR LIVES!!!!

thecfarm

Wow,what a story.Is this this a true story or something making the rounds on the internet?
Model 6020-20hp Manual Thomas bandsaw,TC40A 4wd 40 hp New Holland tractor, 450 Norse Winch, Heatmor 400 OWB,YCC 1978-79

tnlogger

I'm really not sure. I know it got to about 40 people before me. From Texas A&M University
Department of Educational Psychology.
The reason I posted it was how it makes you stop and think about your self and to think very hard about our actions.  :)
gene

Sprucegum

Whether it is true or just made up and "making the rounds" doesn't matter.

You believe it because it embodies the truth and kindness and goodness we all want to believe is in each of us.

If you believe it is true it will be true.

joelmar10

Promotes the "turn the other cheek" idea, doesn't it?  The old guy takes a few insults and a little abuse in stride and a soul is redeemed.  I doubt I could do it like Carl.  I don't think I could carry water for the guys of WWII.   They endured the worst, complained the least, and did the most.  And there aren't many left.  Those guys to me epitomize the American ethic.  They suffered a lot, some giving the ultimate sacrifice, and in doing so they saved the world.  Carl saved men with fight when he was young and could, by not fighting when he was old and couldn't.  Great story whether real or imagined.
I used to think I could fix DanG near anything...now I know I can...or I think I can...or maybe I can?

Quartlow

True or not, it makes you think.

Breezewood 24 inch mill
Have a wooderful day!!

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