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The Secret - When You Can Walk On Water, Take The Boat ( Part 1 ) |
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Submitted by Sylvia Cori
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It was evening time. Not completely dark, but with traces of the day still remaining.Everyone had left the office and I was there all alone completing the few tasks that remain at the end of any day. It is not my nature to work late, but today was somewhat different.Mixed with a feeling of accom- plishment was the frustrationand disappointment of not having completed all I would have liked to do.
My office was at the end of the building, overlooking the parking lot. The lot was empty save for my little car, which appeared to be waiting so patiently. Always it seemed to be waiting for me, never complaining, always nearby. “Time to leave,” I thought. “I'm already late.” If there's one consola- tion, it was that there wouldn't be any traffic at this hour.
Glancing through the window as I reached for my atta- ché case, I noticed a blue car a few spaces removed from mine. The hood was raised and it seemed as if someone was trying to fix something. It wasn't unusual for cars to limp into our parking lot with some problem or other. I descended the stairs to the main door, set the night alarm and walked out of the building.
The blue car was still there with its hood pried open. With the idea of seeing whether I could be of any help, I cau- tiously approached. Through the window in the dim light, I saw a bearded face smiling back at me. “What took you so long? I thought you might have changed your mind,” he said. The nerve of the guy, I thought. A total stranger, and he wanted to know what took me so long. Ingratitude really bothers me. It struck me as somewhat strange, however, that he seemed to have been expecting me. A totally improbable assumption I felt, as I quickly dismissed the thought.
Peering under the hood I shouted, “Try the motor once more.” He did, and it immediately sprang to life and continued running with a beautiful purr as if nothing ever had been the matter with it. The bearded one got out of his car, walked up to me, thrust out his hand and said, “Hi! It's good to see you again for the first time. My name is Gideon.”
“Hello, Mr. Gideon, it's nice to meet you,” I stammered, shaking his outstretched hand. “My name is John.”
“Yes, I know,” he said. This took me by surprise. I had never seen the man before. He wore blue jeans and a flannel shirt and appeared to be somewhere between the ages of fifty and sixty. He wasn't tall. His hair was jet black and neatly combed with one lock falling idly over his right brow. The beard which was as black as his hair was full and trimmed, but his eyes were his most noticeable feature. Even in the dim light of the street lamp, one could see those piercing orbs and know they had lived a legend. Such determination in those eyes, and yet, such kindness as well. Although I noticed all these things in a split second,I kept staring at him all the while.
To read the rest of the story visit http://www.spiritual-simplicity.com
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