"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                                                   My Brother’s Keeper

We locked our car doors, and then cautiously rolled down the window a crack to hear what the man was saying.  "Please," he said, "we need a ride.  My wife is very ill.  Please, will you help us?"  As we drove, his words kept echoing in my mind.

My husband and I and our baby daughter had been shopping and were coming home from the store.  The weather was extremely windy and cold, but the warmth of our car was very comforting.  We were in the right lane at a red light and were slowly moving up as the cars in front of us turned right.  As we approached the intersection, we saw an elderly man standing at the corner.  We could see he was saying something to each car that passed him, but our windows were rolled up and we could not hear him.  We rolled them down when we got closer to him, then stopped so we could hear what he was saying.

"Please, will you help us?"  His pleadings for help had seemed so convincing.  Filled with mixed emotions about whether to help this man, we hesitated at the red light.  We had seen so many homeless people with signs requesting money, or help in some way.  Was this man's request legitimate?  Fear of possible danger from helping a stranger engulfed us.  My husband and I looked at each other and then we rolled up our window.  Where was this man's wife?  We both looked around trying to find her.

It was just as we thought.  There was no one else out in this horrible weather.  What did he take us for, anyway?  When we were about ready to drive away, a thought came to mind, "Am I my brother's keeper?"  I couldn't ignore it. Then I felt an overwhelming surge of charity.  We didn't offer an audible prayer, but it was as if in our hearts we prayed, "Father, if this is what thou wouldst have us do, please protect us and our little baby in the back seat!"  Then, turning toward each other, we knew what to do. 

"Where is your wife?" we asked the weather-beaten man.  As soon as he heard our question, he immediately cried, "Thank you God.  Oh God bless you.  Thank you, thank you!"  I glanced at my husband and a new warmth filled our car.  As I turned back to speak to this man, he was gone.  Looking down the street, we could see the shadow of an overly exhausted man running toward something.  We quickly followed him as we offered one more silent prayer for protection.

There, up the street about a block away, was a very sick-looking little old lady huddled in her blankets, trying to stay out of the wind and keep warm.  Her husband ran to her and helped her up with great care.  We unlocked our back doors for them to get in.  When the woman sat down and leaned back against the seat, a smile illuminated her tired face.  Her husband was filled with such deep gratitude.  "Thank you so much.  God bless you," he repeated over and over.  "God bless you!"

As we drove them to their apartment, we learned that they had spent the entire day at the hospital getting treatment for his sick wife.  Their car was in the shop getting new brakes and so they had walked, but she was too sick to go any further. Because they were trying to keep her out of the direct wind, they were not standing by the bus stop, and the bus had passed them by several times.

When we arrived at their apartment, we helped this little couple out of the car. Once again this appreciative man showered us with gratitude.  "God bless you, God bless you."  As we drove away, I cried all the way home, his words playing over and over in my mind.  Amidst the hustle and bustle of everyday living, we had found our brother.  Later I came upon a quote from President Spencer W. Kimball that summed up what happened on that cold, windy night:  "The Lord answers our prayers, but it is usually through another person that he meets our needs."  Am I my brother's keeper?  The answer rang out clearly to me, "Yes indeed!"

                                           --Tonya Larsen (story from By Small and Simple Things)