Merry Christmas

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn’t been anywhere in years since

his wife had passed away. It was just another day to him. He didn’t hate Christmas, just

couldn’t find a reason to celebrate. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been

falling for the last hour when the door opened and a homeless man stepped through. Instead of

throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by

the heater and warm up. George handed the stranger a Thermos bottle filled with hot stew. Just at

that moment he heard the “ding” of the driveway bell. “Excuse me, be right back,” George

said. There in the driveway was an old ’53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. “Mister

can you help me!” said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. “My wife is with child and my car

is broken.” George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold, the car

was dead. ‘You ain’t going in this thing,’ George said as he went to the office wall, and got

the keys to his old truck, drove the truck around where the couple was waiting. “Here, take my

truck,” he said. “She ain’t the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good.”

George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. “Glad I gave

‘em the truck, their tires were shot too. That ‘ol truck has brand new ……..” George

thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. Then he heard shots being fired. He

ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left

shoulder, the officer moaned, “Please help me.” George helped the officer inside as he

remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. “Something for pain” George

thought. All he had were the pills he used for his back. “These ought to work.” The front door

of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. “Give me all your cash! Do it now!”

the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything

like this before. “That’s the guy that shot me!” exclaimed the officer. The cop was reaching

for his gun. “Put that thing away,” George said to the cop. “We got one too many in here

now.” He turned his attention to the young man. “Son, it’s Christmas Eve. If you need money,

well then, here. It ain’t much but it’s all I got. Now put that pee shooter away.” George

pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man who released his grip on the gun, fell

to his knees and began to cry. “I’m not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy

something for my wife and son,” he went on. “I’ve lost my job, my rent is due, my car got

repossessed last week.” George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an

ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn. “Chuck! You ok?” one of

the cops asked the wounded officer. “ Who did this?” the other cop asked as he approached the

young man. Chuck answered him, “I don’t know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just dropped his

gun and ran.” The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man leaned

over the wounded cop and whispered, ‘Why?’ Chuck just said, “Merry Christmas boy … and you

too, George, and thanks for everything.” George went into the back room and came out with a box.

He pulled out a ring box. His wife Martha said the big diamond ring would come in handy some day.

George gave it to the young man. George reached into the box again and picked up a toy airplane for

the young man’s son, and refused to accept the $150 that the young man returned to buy Christmas

dinner with. Before the young man left, he had a job waiting for him — the day after Christmas.

George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. “Where’d you come from? I thought

you left?” “I have been here. I have always been here,” said the stranger. “You say you

don’t celebrate Christmas. Why?” “Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn’t see what

all the bother was. Puttin’ up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin’ cookies

like I used to with Martha just wasn’t the same by myself and besides I was gettin’ a little

chubby.” The stranger put his hand on George’s shoulder. ‘But you do celebrate the holiday,

George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry. The woman with child

will bear a son and he will become a great doctor. The policeman you helped will go on to save 19

people from being killed by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man

and not take any for himself. That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any

man.” The stranger moved toward the door. George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn

pants that the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.

“You see, George … it’s My birthday. Merry Christmas.”George fell to his knees and replied,

“Happy Birthday, Lord.”