Quiltingboard Forums - The Old Fisherman

Someone sent this to my DH and I wanted to share it with all of you.
>
>
>Our house was directly across the street from the clinic
> entrance of Johns Hopkins Hospital in
> Baltimore We lived downstairs and rented
> the upstairs rooms to out-patients at the
> Clinic.
>
>One summer evening as I was preparing supper,
> there was a knock at the door I opened it
> to see a truly awful looking man. 'Why, he's
> hardly taller than my eight-year-old, ' I
>thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled
>body.
>
>But the
> appalling thing was his face, lopsided from
> swelling, red and raw Yet his voice was
> pleasant as he said, 'Good evening. I've come to
> see if you've a room for just one night. I
> came for a treatment this morning from the
> eastern shore, and there's no bus 'till
> morning.'
>
>He told me he'd been hunting for a room
>since noon but with no success; no one seemed
>to have a room. 'I guess it's my face. I
>know it looks terrible, but my doctor says
>with a few more treatments..
> .'
>
>For a moment I hesitated, but his next
>words convinced me: 'I could sleep in this rocking
> chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the
> morning.' I told him we would find him a
> bed, but to rest on the porch. I
> went inside and finished getting supper.
> When we were ready, I asked the old man if he
> would join us. 'No thank you. I have
> plenty' And he held up a brown paper
> bag.
>
>When I had finished the dishes, I went
>out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes.
>It didn't take a long time to see that this old
>man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny
>body. He told me he fished for a living to support
>his daughter, her five children and her husband,
>who was hopelessly crippled from a back
> injury.
>
>He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact,
>every other sentence was prefaced with thanks
>to God for a blessing He was grateful that no
>pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently
>a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving
>him the strength to keep going.
>
>At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children's
> room for him. When I got up in the morning, the
> bed linens were neatly folded, and the little
> man was out on the porch.
>
>He refused breakfast, but just before he left
>for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor,
> he said,
>'Could I please come back and stay the next
>time I have a treatment? I won't put you
>out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair.' He paused
>a moment and then added, 'Your children
>made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered by
>my face, but children don't seem to mind.' I told
> him he was welcome to come
> again.
>
>And on his next trip he arrived a little after
>seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought a
>big fish and a quart of the largest oysters
>I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that
>morning before he left so that they'd be nice
>and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4 a.m. , and
>I wondered what time he had to get up in order
>to do this for us.
>
>In the years he came to stay overnight
>with us there was never a time that he did not
>bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his
> garden.
>
>Other times we received packages in the mail,
>always by special delivery; fish and oysters packed
>in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every
>leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk
> three miles to mail these and knowing how little
> money he had made the gifts doubly precious..
>
>
>When I received these little remembrances, I
>often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor
>made after he left that first morning.
> 'Did you keep that awful looking man
> last night? I turned him away! You can lose
> roomers by putting up such
> people!'
>
>Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice But,
>oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps
>their illness would have been easier to
>bear. I know our family always will be grateful
>to have known him; from him we learned what it
>was to accept the bad without complaint
>and the good with gratitude to
> God.
>
>Recently I was visiting a friend who has
>a greenhouse. As she showed me her flowers, we
>came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden
>chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But
>to my great surprise, it was growing in an old
>dented, rusty bucket.. I thought to myself, 'If
>this were my plant, I'd put it in the loveliest
> container I had!'
>
>My friend changed my mind.. 'I ran short of
>pots,' she explained, 'and knowing how beautiful
>this one would be, I thought it wouldn't
>mind starting out in this old pail. It's just
>for a little while, till I can put it out in the
> garden.'
>
>She must have wondered why I laughed so
>delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene
> in heaven. There's an especially beautiful
>one,' God might have said when he came to
>the soul of the sweet old fisherman. 'He won't
>mind starting in this small
> body.'