Bryan was driving home one evening, on a two-lane country
road. Work in this
small mid-western community was almost
as slow as his beat-up Pontiac. But he never quit looking.
Ever since the factory closed, he'd been unemployed, and
with winter raging on, the chill of poverty was really hitting
hard. The road was
one of those lonely roads you find
around small dying communities.
Most of his friends had left. They had families to feed and
dreams to fulfill. But
he stayed on. After all, this was
where he buried his mother and father. He was born here
and he knew the country. He
could go down this road blind,
and tell you what was on either side, and with only one
headlight working on the old Pontiac, this knowledge came in
handy.
It was starting to get dark and light snow flurries were
coming down. He'd
better get a move on. You know, he
almost didn't see the old lady, stranded on the side of the
road. But even in
the dim light of day, he could see she
needed help. So he
pulled up in front of her Mercedes and
got out. His Pontiac
was still sputtering when he approached
her.
Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No
one had stopped to help for the last hour or so.
Was he
going to hurt her? He didn't look safe, he looked poor and hungry.
He could see that
she was frightened, standing out
there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill
which only fear can put in you. He said, "I'm here to help
you ma'am. Why don't
you wait in the car where it's warm?
By the way, my name is Bryan".
Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that
was bad enough. Bryan
crawled under the car looking for a
place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two.
Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty
and his hands hurt.
As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the
window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was
from St. Louis and was only just passing through.
She
couldn't thank him enough for coming to her aid.
Bryan just
smiled as he closed her trunk.
She asked him how much she
owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her.
She had already imagined all the awful things that could
have happened had he not stopped.
Bryan never thought twice about the money.
This was not
a job to him. This
was helping someone in need, and God
knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the
past. He had lived
his whole life that way, and it never
occurred to him to act any other way. He told her that if
she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw
someone who needed help, she could give that person the
assistance that they needed, and Bryan added "
...and think of me."
He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had
been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he
headed for home, disappearing into the twilight.
A few miles down the road the lady saw a small café.
She
went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before
she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy
looking restaurant. Outside
were two old gas pumps. The
whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash register was
like the telephone of an out of work actor -- it didn't ring
much.
Her waitress came over and brought a clean towel to
wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even
being on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase. The
lady noticed that the waitress was nearly eight months
pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her
attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so
little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered
Bryan.
After the lady finished her meal, and the waitress went to
get change for her hundred dollar bill, the lady slipped right
out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came
back. The waitress
wondered where the lady could be, then
she noticed something written on the napkin.
"You don't
owe me anything, I have been there too.
Somebody once
helped me out, the way I'm helping you. If you really want
to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of
love end with you." Find
someone, a stranger, who needs
help and help them out in your own way.
And when you do
think of me. Tucked under the napkin were five more 100
dollar bills.
That night when she got home from work and climbed into
bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady
had written. How
could the lady have known how much she
and her husband needed it? With
the baby due next month,
it was going to be hard. She
knew how worried her husband
was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft
kiss and whispered soft and low, "Everything's going to be
all right; I love you, Bryan."