You Never Know

There is an elderly man whose name is, Peter, and he lives down the street from me. Society pays him no mind. His home is nice enough and even better than many. He is quiet and keeps to himself.

His three car garage is overflowing with empty cans retrieved from the streets. The cans would be pouring out the windows if those windows opened. Instead the garage doors are pulled to the sides and the mountains of cans spill onto the gravel and grass. He has got a couple of older cars that probably haven’t seen a road in ten years…his laying hen uses them for a roost.

The pastor and his helpers – me George – and the other more integral one…the driver and the muscle of our trio, Richard, all possess the same beliefs of helping. We are non-judgemental. All we need to know is whether a person is in need, and when we find out, we deliver. Pastor prays with each one but there are no conditions. Recipients may attend whatever church they wish to; it does not stop our giving. We freely give to atheists for Jesus said something about, ye will know us (Christians) by our works. God is love.

The grass in Peter’s yard is always about a foot high and in need of mowing, It is never any longer nor any shorter. Many times I drive past his place going to my friend’s house and I think of the old guy…wonder if I should stop in to say hi? But I never do.

He is but one that we deliver food to on a monthly basis. And some at church did not want food delivered to this person because they’d heard that he is a wealthy man and in fact owns most of the county, Christians should know better than to gossip.

I did a little investigating on this person but not because of a need to know whether he could afford groceries or not, that is none of my business.

It turns out that Peter’s dad had many political connections and yes Peter was born into high society. His dad was a railroad tycoon from the early 1900’s…/1024px-Missouri_Pacific_Numb… and was friends with James J. Hill a bigger tycoon than his father. But these men foraged for land together and sometimes at odds of one another yet despite their wealth they too, returned to dust.

Though most of Peter’s wealth was squandered he took a gamble when Vegas was new but Peter was muscled out by the organization. He tried once again with the casinos in Cuba at the time of the revolution, but lost out when Castro’s troops claimed everything for their own.

He now leads a quiet existence, but still has his yacht docked at a marina down at the Gulf Shores. I know not its condition. He owns properties, several houses, and according to county records they would fetch a pretty penny. Peter has chosen his own way of living. Right or wrong, that isn’t anybody’s call but his.

Peter, a quiet, miserly man is content with life and hearing about God on delivery day. Maybe one fine day he will be delivered.

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