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Since I consider myself a "Progressive Christian", I thought this story needed a rewrite...from our point of view...without the rightwing slant...
The Filling Station
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.
He had no decorations, no tree, no lights. It was just another day to him.
He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. There were no children in his life. His wife had gone.
He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless man stepped through.
Instead of throwing the man out, John, Old John as he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the space heater and warm up.
"Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy. I'll just go."
"Not without something hot in your belly," John turned and opened a wide-mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It isn't much, but it's hot and tasty. Stew. I Made it myself. When you're done, there's coffee and it's fresh."
Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell.
"Excuse me, be right back," John said.
There in the driveway was an old 53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked.
"Mister can you help me?" said the driver with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken."
John opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold; the car was dead.
"You aren't going in this thing," John said as he turned away.
"But mister. Please help...." The door of the office closed behind John as he went in. John went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building and opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting.
"Here, you can borrow my truck," he said. "She Isn't the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good."
John helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. John turned and walked back inside the office.
"I’m glad I loaned them the truck. Their tires were shot, too. That old truck has brand new tires........" John thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos was on the desk, empty with a used coffee cup beside it.
"Well, at least he got something in his belly," John thought. John went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator.
"Well, I can fix this," he said to himself. So he put a new one on. "Those tires aren't going get them through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car.
As he was working, he heard a shot 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, "Help me." John helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention.
"Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The laundry company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct tape to bind the wound.
"Hey, they say duct tape can fix anything," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease.
"Something for pain," John thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back. "These should work." He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills.
"You hang in there. I'm going to get you an ambulance." John said, but the phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on the radio out in your police car."
He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard destroying the two-way radio. He went back in to find the policeman sitting up.
"Thanks," said the officer. "You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the area."
John sat down beside him.
"I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I’m not going to leave you." John pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "It looks worse than what it is. The bullet passed right through you. It’s a good thing it missed the important stuff. I think with time your going to be just fine."
John got up and poured a cup of coffee.
"How do you take it?" he asked.
"None for me," said the officer.
"Oh, you need should drink this. It’s the best in the city." Then John added: "Too bad I don’t have any doughnuts."
The officer laughed and winced at the same time. 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 John could tell that he had never done anything like this before.
"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer.
"Son, why are you doing this?" asked John. "You need to put the gun away. Somebody else might get hurt."
The young man was confused. "Shut up, old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!" The cop was reaching for his gun.
"Put that thing away," John said to the cop. "We’ve got one too many guns in here now."
He turned his attention to the young man.
"Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need the money, well then, here. It isn't much but it's all I have. Now put that gun away."
John pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man 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..."
John handed the gun to the cop.
"Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can."
He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop.
"Sometimes we do stupid things." John handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Being stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Coming in here with a gun isn't the answer. Now sit there and warm up and we'll sort this thing out."
The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop.
"Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer."
"Shut up and drink your coffee," the cop said.
John could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a stop. "You OK, Bill?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer.
"Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"
"The GPS locator in the car. It’s the best thing since sliced bread. 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."
John and the young man both looked puzzled at each other.
"That guy works here?" the wounded cop continued.
"Yes," John said. "I just hired him this morning. The boy lost his job."
The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"
Bill just said, "Merry Christmas, boy, you too John, and thanks for everything."
"Well, it looks like you got one hell of a break there. That should to solve some of your problems." John went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box.
"Here you go. Something for the your wife. I don't think Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some day."
The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw.
"I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you."
"And now it means something to you," replied John. "I’ve got my memories, and that's all I need."
John reached into the box again. A toy airplane, a racing car and a little metal truck appeared next. They were toys that his wife had bought for the child they never had.
"Here's something for that little boy of yours."
The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier.
"And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that, too. Count it as part of your first week's pay." John said. "Now go home to your family."
The young man turned with tears streaming down his face.
"I'll be here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."
"Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," John said. "I’ll see you the day after." George turned around to find that the stranger had returned.
"Where did you come from? I thought you had 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. Putting up a tree seemed a waste. Baking cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was getting a little chubby."
The stranger put his hand on John's shoulder.
"But you do celebrate the holiday, John. 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 computer engineer. Creating a program that prevents rogue governments from spying on their own people. The policeman you helped will go on to save 190 people from being killed by a bomb the American government had secretly placed in a welfare office intending to kill innocent Americans because of their race.
"The young man who tried to rob you will become the new leader the United States of America. He will truly be a man of the people, by the people and for the people. Reversing a policy put into place decades earlier by an enemy of the state, which allowed rich Americans to receive huge tax breaks. Thus, he will create an America where each man, woman, and child is truly equal. Defending the Constitution the way the Fore Father’s had intended. For everyone was created equal in the eyes of God.
That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man."
John was taken aback by all this stranger had said.
"And how do you know all this?" asked the old man.
"Trust me, John. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days are done, you will be with Martha again." The stranger moved toward the door.
"If you will excuse me, John, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned, because there is not and never was a war on Christmas"
John watched as the man's old leather jacket and his torn pants turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.
"You see, John, it's My birthday. Merry Christmas."
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