It was years ago. Dad and my nephew, Josh, were driving home during a rain storm. The wipers whooshed back and forth across the windshield, as rain nearly pierced the glass. They were dry, weary, and comfortable inside the silver station wagon.
It had been a grueling day for Dad. He worked for a government agency, and what he did had always been a mystery to the family. After the long drive from work Dad picked Joshua up from school. Joshua’s days weren’t any shorter than Dad’s most of the time, including his work scholarship job and homework. The stress ors were different, but the result of “tired and hungry” at the end of the day were the same.
Passing a ball field on the way home, they came to a familiar traffic light, where they waited long enough for Dad to notice a homeless man sitting halfway up the bleachers at the edge of the field.
After pulling around the corner, Dad parked the car to the curb, and told Joshua, he’d be right back. Taking his umbrella overhead, he began to cross the street in the foul weather. The rain pricked at his legs and had soaked his feet by the time he reached the bleachers on the ball field.
It was silence to Joshua except for the spattering of rain on the metal car as he watched.
The homeless man turned to see a man under an umbrella at his side. Dad pulled his wallet out, and gave the man all of the cash that was in it. He then handed the wet man his favorite umbrella and proceeded to remove his sports jacket. After wrapping it around the man’s shoulders, and saying a few word’s that Joshua could't lip read, Dad walked back to the car in the rain.
Dripping and smelling of fresh rain, Dad climbed into the driver’s seat and drove home. I don’t know what Josh and Dad talked about after that, or if they talked at all on the way home, but I do know Joshua raced inside to tell the whole story to my Mom.
Weeks later at Joshua’s parent’s trailer, a knock came at the door. My sister answered the door to a woman holding a large envelope.
“I’m collecting money for the family two streets over who lost things in the fire.”
My sister pulled her wallet out of her purse, as Joshua ran to his room yelling, “I’ve got some money! I’ve got some money!”
Upon his swift return, he pushed twenty crumpled dollars past his Mother and into the woman’s hands saying, “Here, take my money!”
Joshua’s parents were stunned.
“Joshua, you don’t need to give all your money. You should keep a little for yourself.”
The woman at the door agreed saying, “You don’t have to give it all.”
Joshua’s answer was simple and final. “But my Pop Pop would give it all!”
There was no more argument over the money, and the woman was gone. Joshua’s
parents were so proud of him, and thankful for Dad. Later my sister told my Mother
what had happened, being proud of both son and Father.
My family has not seen all the culminating acts of kindness in my Dad’s life, as in this moment with Joshua. One day we will whisper joy and glory to our Lord for all we do not know my Dad has done for Jesus. I praise God that I have been raised by such a man as this.
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