HEART SMILES Carl's Garden

[Guest guest]

Carl's Garden 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

un-assuming 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.------------------------Some can

relate to this more than others, some of us have been there in the young man's

shoes... =>:-))Eternally grateful.Srila Prabhupad ki jaya

[Guest guest]

Dear Nicholas

I read, I cried and I read the rest.

If you like this, you might enjoy a simple book with a powerful message: The

Enlightened Gardner by Syd Banks.

smiles

c