Do you feel this is how people should reach out to troubled youths?

Question

The gardener......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
W.W.II. Watching him, we worried that although he had survived W.W.II, he may not make it through our changing uptown neighborhood with its ever-increasing random violence, gangs, and drug activity. when he saw the flier at our local church asking for volunteers for caring for the
gardens behind the minister's residence, he responded in his
characteristically unassuming 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 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

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

t'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 wat ch 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 a s beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl and his garden."

The following spring another flier went up. It read:
"Person needed to care for Carl's garden."
The flier went unnoticed by the busy parishioners until one day when a knock was heard at the minister's office door. 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. That's the whole gospel message simply stated.
Isn't that a good lesson as to how we should ALL respond!! God Bless (sorry it was so long) XX

Answer 1

If this is the only way from a elderly gentlemen to show his unshakable tolerance and godly endurance even after being assaulted then my answer is Yes! Who could of done better than this? Great question and beautifully written! *(*

Answer 2

Well it makes for an intriguing story. I am sorry it ended without being a complete sentence. I still don't see how folks in the story actually reached out to the youth. Do you mean by Carl's being docile? If that's your question, no. Even Christ told his disciples to arm themselves when they went to the garden where the soldiers later came to arrest him. There is a such thing as righteous indignation.

Ah, so then, it is a story. Let's see the end of it. Seems I heard this story long ago. I'll wait for the surprise ending.

Answer 3

The true villain in this story is the so-called "minister" who cares more about his personal garden than about the well-being of an elderly man. What selfishness!

Answer 4

There is no way I'm reading all that.

The best way to help troubled youths is to be a good roll model for them and show them things don't have to bad in life.
Most young people I know are lost in life now days and have no idea what to do.

Answer 5

I don't think that 'troubled youths' should be handled that way at all. Just let them get away with stuff like that and hope they come around on their own? Ha! Not my kid.

Answer 6

does it really happen?? Poor man... is he okay? I think he mst be hurt inside but doesn't show it.. he's kinda closed...

Answer 7

no, carl is weak. he should have called the police and found a safer place to volunteer. carl is one lucky devil. he's not too bright, but lucky.