For those of you who were not able to hear the sermon this Sunday morning (February 17th 2008) you missed a great story from someone in our congregation of "walking across the room". Even though this was given to Pastor with no mention of the person by name, he felt it was worth sharing in the services this morning and I felt it deserved the same merit here. For your benefit I have posted this letter here. (I realize that it is long but please read the whole thing as it is a truly touching story)
"Dear Sir,
About 15 years ago, I was a freshman at ISU with barely enough to make ends meet. That first November it was really difficult for me to scrape up enough change to head home for Thanksgiving, but I managed. After filling my tank the morning of the trip, I stopped by Kroger on College Avenue to pick up some snacks for the 5 hour drive. I remember I barely had enough left over for a small bag of nachos and a Mountain Dew to keep me awake.
When I came out of the store that Saturday morning, I was horrified to find that I had left my old Ford's lights on, and my battery had completely died in 15 minutes time. It was extremely cold and all of my friends had already left for the holiday. I put my hood up to look at the engine, hoping even an ignorant kid like me could somehow get the car started. I was outside for 20 minutes, chilled to the bone, trying to tinker with the engine and no one stopped to offer help or even looked at me twice.
Just as I was about to give up all hope, an older brown station wagon pulled up in the parking space across from mine, and a kind man in jeans and a red plaid flannel shirt offered to help me. I was so thankful I could have cried but college guys must remain macho at all times for reputation sake, so I held it back. You quickly assessed the problem and retrieved some jumper cables out of your trunk. As you were working, we made small talk and I remember you telling me you had just pulled in the parking lot to grab some ice cream and root beer as a rare treat for your kids, when you spotted me with my hood up and thought I could use a hand. After my car started, you asked my name, which I provided, I asked yours. Your last name was so unusual that I laughed and asked how it was spelled. You did not realize it but I was committing it to memory.
We shook hands and I thanked you for your help. Just before I was getting in my car, you took one more look at my old rusty car and beat up jacket, stopped me, opened your wallet and handing me the only cash you had, a $5.00 bill. I refused but you insisted, telling me to take it since I had a long drive ahead of me and you never know when you might need a few extra dollars. I did, thanked you again and started to drive away.
When I looked in my rear view mirror, I saw you get in your car, and drive out of the parking lot in the opposite direction. You never even entered the store. That's when it hit me that you had given me the money you had originally intended to use as a treat for your kids. I reached in my glove box for a piece of scrap paper so I could write down your name before I forgot it.
4 and a half hours later, my gas tank was nearly drained and I was running on fumes. The gas mileage in my car seemed to get worse with every trip. It was only because of the money that you had given me that I was able to stop and get the gas I needed to get me home, instead of ending up stranded on the side o the road.
Later that night i tucked the piece of paper with your name on it in my keepsake box along side some of my old baseball cards and some Indian head pennies, vowing to pay you back someday for your kindness. I must confess that as the years passed, I forgot about the incident until recently when my son developed an interest in baseball cards. As I was digging through my old keepsake box for my old cards, I ran across that crumpled old piece of paper and remembered my promise. I raced to the computer to look up the last name in Superpages.com and was exited to find you were listed, enabling me to find your mailing address.
This brings me to this letter and the cash that accompanies it. You gave me all of the cash in you had in your wallet that day, so I shall give you what I have in mine today in return. I have not signed my name or provided a return address in order to give you no choice but to accept this small token of appreciation for your kindness to a dirt poor college student several years ago.
Sincerely,
The Kid in the Beat Up Ford"
JUST A NOTE: Pastor indicated that the amount of money in the envelope was, as he understood, a few hundred dollars.
You never know what impact one small, "walk across the room" will have. A teaching story for all of us to consider.
