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.

~Author Unknown~