⌛ What goes around, comes around

He almost didn't see the old lady, stranded on the side of the road, but even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.

Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn't look safe, he looked poor and hungry.

He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill which only fear can put in you.
He said, "I'm here to help you, ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car where it's warm? By the way, my name is Bryan Anderson."

Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack , skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt.

As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn't thank him enough for coming to her aid.

Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk The lady asked how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped.

Bryan never thought twice about being paid. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty, who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way.

He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance they needed, and Bryan added, "And think of me."
He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight.

A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase. The lady noticed the waitress was pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan .

After the lady finished her meal, she paid with a hundred dollar bill. The waitress quickly went to get change for her hundred dollar bill, but the old lady had slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. The waitress wondered where the lady could be. Then she noticed something written on the napkin.

There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote: "You don't owe me anything. I have Been there too. Somebody once helped me out, the way I'm helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you."

Under the napkin were four more $100 bills.
Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the Money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard....

She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, "Everything's going to be all right. I love you, Bryan Anderson."

 

That's a very moving story grandpainak. I had mentioned in another thread, life would be easier, more peaceful and blessed if treating people in a pleasant way, make them feel as human beings with respect, dignity and integrity, regardless of color, religion, beliefs and traditions, then the world will be a heaven to live in. Although, most of you won't agree to my thoughts, as reality prevails, but this is just me, am brought up with values in life..."What goes around, comes around".

 

I Remember

What it was like to grow up in poverty. I did not realize that my family was poor till I reached the forth grade. That year the 4 grade play was “The Little Drummer Boy”, I was not in the play but my school coat was. Just as soon as the drummer boy appeared, a boy in the audience behind me said in a very loud voice, Look he’s wearing “Jimmy’s” coat! I just closed my eyes real tight and made myself disappear.

At seventeen I saw more poverty in Kentucky, Tennessee, Louisiana and Georgia after I entered the Army. Than at eighteen I was shipped over to the war in Vietnam and got a good long look at REAL POVERTY.

It was our third or forth trip back to Maria’s home town of Dumaguete City in the PI. And Papa wanted us to go to Tayasan where he was born and raised. He wanted us to visit his father’s and grand father’s graves. It was a long hot bus ride north along the east cost of Negros. After the grave site visit we went in to Tayasan and I got to meet several of my new relatives.

We were on the bus for the ride back to Dumaguete. As we passed through the many small villages and towns. All the children that spotted me, with my “white face”, looking out the open bus window would get a big smile and wave at me. This went on for several miles when I realized that I was not smiling or waiving back. In fact I felt very sad. It was then that it hit me like a big wave and tears welled up in my eyes and I head my face hopping on one would see. You see I realized that those kids did not know that they were poor just as I did not know when I was there age.

Just as that day at the forth grade play this moment in my life would remain with me for the rest of my life. Those two events have also changed my life, and I might add for the better.

Over the years and lots of trips to Dumaguete I have become known as the “Ice Cream Man”. I hire the ice cream vendor to give away ice cream till I tell him to stop or he runs out of ice cream. We go down into the darkest poorest parts of Dumaguete and give away lots of ice cream. I do go with the vendor but I stay at a distance back in the shadows. I don’t want to be recognized for that deed I just want to give back the kind deeds that were given to me and my family back some 50 to 55 years ago when I was the skinny, hungry little kid that didn’t know he was poor.

Jim

 

My parents were considered "well-off" considering to the standard of living in a little barangay in my hometown. I grew up with 3 helpers in a big house, but my sisters' and my brothers' lives were not that easy. We earned our pocket money by working and helping out with the rice and corn milling as one of my parents businesses. My brothers had to earn theirs by working with the passenger jeepneys which my parents had 6 at that time. Had to help out in janitorial jobs in my parents' Vocational School- teaching us the value of money and that money won't just grow in trees.

That what they can inherit us is the value of life, the value of mankind, the value of family and the greatest of them all is the value of education. At a very young age, I never had cents without earning it. We even sometimes missed really what childhood was but never regretted of the upbringing we had. I owe to my dear parents of what I am now.

 

Chrissar,
I know, that is one of the bigger reasons I decided to mary a Filipina. Your profile does not revel much so I'm guessing you are a filipina with enough years to have that wisdom.

Jim

 

I am filipina and share a blissful marriage life with my husband Chris who is British and currently residing in the UK but fingers cross, Dumaguete will soon be our permanent home address.