Wheels ~ A true story

this really happened to me... I still see "Jim" around

Wheels
(a true story)
While I was working on a house, getting ready to move across country to attend Bible School, I realized I needed help. I called a local ministry that served as a halfway house for men and inquired about day laborers. The gal said they did not do such a thing, but gave me the name and number of a man whom I called directly. We hit it off grandly and began to work together.
It soon became apparent that his car would be trouble – either it would break or he would get a ticket for impersonating a motor vehicle, so I gave him rides to the job. Soon I tired of that, as I wished to put in longer hours. And so, I thought of this car that I had seen on the way to pick him up. It was older, but seemed to scream “one owner!” Well, we stopped by the next night and sure enough the car was one owner, meticulously maintained and a steal at $600. I wrote the man a check and told him to write the title out in my new friend’s name. I remember saying “he’s good for it” when the seller looked at me funny. I remember with great satisfaction seeing Jim drive off in his new car, saying, “see you at work tomorrow!” He would earn that car in no time, I knew.
Well, the next day, no Jim. I worked all day by myself, getting more worried, then mad. When I got home, I called his place. His wife answered, crying she said, “oh, John, didn’t he tell you? He’s gone!” A knot wedged itself firmly in my stomach. I refused her offer to pay. Hell, she had a little girl to think of, bills to pay and her own, much deeper grief to deal with. The last thing she needed was another bill – for something she didn’t even have use of. Oh I was mad at him, at God, at myself -- mad, mad, mad! I could have used that money desperately. I could have REALLY used the help!
Well, weeks went by with me working alone. I finished the house as best I could, sold it for a decent profit and counted myself wiser -- more cautious, less trusting, but wiser. Months went by and then one day, a letter arrived from 3,000 miles away. It was from Jim. I dropped it, picked it up and tore it open with shaking hands. The letter told of a journey home, to help he desperately needed. A journey with deadly intent in the glove box in case he didn’t make it. It was a journey of desperation of a man’s soul. He said simply, “the car was beautiful, it ran like a top. It got me all the way here… I know that old car of mine might have made it to the Rockies... but... .”
The letter went on to say what a beautiful friend I had been, how no one had ever done such a thing for him before, never trusted him like that. It said that trust had been violated, but that his life had been preserved, and trust could be rebuilt, maybe, someday, somehow... . What a fool I was to be mad! $600 to save a life! Then a few months later, came a check in the mail for $600 with another note, telling of his progress in rehab, his hopes, his dreams. It told of how he hoped to be able to help others the way he helped me. I carefully folded the letter, tucked it away with bleary eyes, somehow stowing it blindly.
Years went by and one day, while trying to figure out a way to paint myself gracefully with an eraser, I was cleaning up my messes figuring “I should at least not leave behind a mess as my legacy” this painfully printed in pencil envelope falls out, with the return address of thousands of miles away. I read of this man transformed, of how he wanted to pass the blessing on to someone who was desperate and low. It told of how he wanted to be a true friend, like I had once been to him. The words seemed to melt into colors, the very energy soaking into my skin like a sacred balm, reaching my heart. I carefully read the words over and over. Funny, I mused how this wheel within a wheel seems to keep on turning with only the slightest push from us needed to keep it going. Feeling a new determination, a new energy, I wept.

Post script:
Today, at church, I shook Jim’s hand, met his new wife, smiled at his daughter as I taught Children’s Church. We ate lunch together, laughing at those white walled tires, those old fashioned wheels. His wife told me that they decided on this very church because of the Children’s Camp I directed impacted their daughter so much… because we do children’s church… because they knew people there limp with dignity, not trying to hide hurts, but carry one another’s burdens.

Wheels... the circle widens
"Jim's" daughter "Abbey" invited her best friend "Kathy" to Kid's Camp where she met Jesus. Kathy has been bringing her mom to church and telling her sick daddy about Jesus. This Saturday, we had a memorial service for Kathy's dad... he died two days after he met Jesus.
We never know what impact our actions may have. When it makes no sense to give or help, but we do it anyway, it is like a pebble dropped on a still pond, the ripples widen, reaching the shores in all directions. Are any of the things we enjoy in this life ours? Or are we to gain joy by giving them away?

I love it Pariah. Thanks so much for sharing

yes, i liked it, thanks for sharing!!!

Whatever happened to his first wife

Last time I saw her she was doing OK. Had a car an apartment and a decent job. Now this was three or four years ago and I have lost contact. I don't think they were good for each other... but who knows?
take care
john

It was such a wonderful story and it made me cry a little. Thanks for sharing it. I am so glad that he turned around and became the truly good man he was inside.

Quote :

it is like a pebble dropped on a still pond, the ripples widen, reaching the shores in all directions. Are any of the things we enjoy in this life ours? Or are we to gain joy by giving them away?

Just something to keep in mind Pariah. What I've come to realize is that those ripples are not supposed to stop until they reach the shore. It's our job to make sure they don't