Stories For The Heart... - The Old Fisherman. (America) Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs rooms to out- patients at the clinic. One summer evening as I was preparing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking man. Why, he is hardly taller than my eight- year-old son, I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But the appalling thing was his face ... lopsided from swelling,red and raw. Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, Good evening, Ive come to see if you have a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and theres no bus until morning. He told me he had been hunting for a room since noon but with no success. No one seemed to have a room. I guess its my face ... I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments, it will get better For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me. I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning. I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch. I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. No thank you. I have plenty. And he held up brown paper bag. When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him for a few minutes. It didnt take long time to see that this old man had a kind heart hidden into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury. He didnt tell it by way of complaint. In fact every other sentence was preface with thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. Her thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going. At bedtime, we put a a camp cot in the childrens room for him. When I got up in the morning, the bed lines were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch. He refused breakfast. But just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said.Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I wont give you trouble. I can sleep fine in a chair. He paused a moment and then added, Your children made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered by my face, but children dont seem to mind. I told him he was welcome to come again. On his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever see. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that theyd be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us. During this years he came to stay overnight with us, there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times we received packages in the mail, always by special delivery ... fish and oysters packed in a box with fresh young spinach or kale ... every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious. When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning. Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people! Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice. But, if only they could have known him, perhaps their illnesses would have been easier to bear. I know our family will always be grateful to have known him. From him, we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.
Posted on: Tue, 15 Oct 2013 02:30:23 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015