"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                                                   Who is My Neighbor?

     The days were getting longer and hotter, and the last of our visiting "winter residents" were heading home.  Here in Mesa, Arizona we have fabulous winters, but our summers are hot enough to send anyone packing.
     I was coming home from work when I first noticed him -- a tiny, older man parked on the side of our street.  He towed a second car, and the other car were filled to the brim.  The cars' license plates indicated he was from Canada.  The hood of the first car was raised, so I pulled up alongside him and asked if he needed help.  "No, thanks," he said.  "Everything will be fine."  So I went home.
     The next morning the cars were still there.  He was out of his car tending to a couple of dogs that were traveling with him.  I dashed back home and returned with a jug of cold water and a bag of grapes.  I wished him a safe trip, as I was sure he'd be gone by the time I got home from work.
     I was wrong.  By afternoon he was still stranded.  This time I stopped, got out of the car, chatted with him and met his dogs.  His name was Pete.  He didn't seem to have much money and most of his worldly goods were in his two old cars, both of which were now disabled.  I admitted to him that while I can fix nearly any appliance or do any household repair, I didn't fare too well when it came to cars.  Apparently he didn't ether.
     Pete did not go unnoticed in our neighborhood.  Several men had been by and poked around under the hood of his car, all with no success.  The third day came and went and Pete was still stranded.  My wife took him some cold water and more fruit.  Once again he spent the early summer night sleeping in his car with his dogs.
     On the four day, the manager of the "Whataburger" brought him a burger, fries, and a drink.  We tried to keep him supplied with cold water and fruit, and we invited him to the house for dinner and/or a shower.  He was timid and worried about his dogs.  He said, "No...thanks."
     I stopped briefly to visit with Pete on the fifth day and slipped him a twenty-dollar bill.  He was grateful and slightly embarrassed, but I was glad to help in any way.  I wished I knew more about car engines.  It was obvious that Pete barely had enough money to get home, and he certainly couldn't afford to hire a mechanic.
     I knew of only one person with the expertise to fix Pete's car - my good friend named Fred.  If Fred couldn't fix a car, no one could.  Pete couldn't afford to pay Fred anything and neither could I, but I knew that wouldn't stop Fred from fixing Pete's car.  He regularly fixed cars for friends just for the cost of parts.  He had a big heart - but he also had a large family and one of his daughters was getting married soon.  He had relatives visiting.  How could I possibly intrude on Fred's precious time?  No, this wasn't his problem; he didn't even know Pete.  I decided not to involve Fred.
     Neighbors continued to try to be helpful, but it wasn't enough.  Pete had been stranded on our street for a total of ten days, and his situation was looking rather hopeless.  It had on too long.  Finally I called Fred.

     With no talk of money and his daughter to be married early the next morning, Fred came out to fix Pete's car.  Neighbors came by and told Fred all the things they had already tried without success; they told himt he car was too far gone.  But not for Fred.  In less than an hour he had Pete's car humming.  With tears of gratitude and relief, Pete thanked Fred, who made a quick exit back to his busy household.
     Once again I invited Pete to our home for a meal and a shower.  Soon there was a quiet knock at our door.  I opened it and there stood Pete.  Although he refused dinner, he had some fresh clothes tucked under his arm and was looking forward to getting cleaned up.
     Pete soaked in our bathtub for nearly an hour.  Afterward he sat down and visited with us.  He noticed pictures of the Savior, the temple, and the First Presidency on our wall.  We told him we were LDS and explained a little bit about our church.  He said he had driven by an LDS temple in Canada.  Through the evening, Pete thanked us several times for our help.   We assured him that we could not have done it alone.
     As I drove down our street the next morning, I glanced over to the left, expecting to see Pete with his dogs and cars.  I felt a little twinge as I looked at the empty spot where he had taken up residence the past ten days.  But now he was gone.
     That night as I read my scriptures, I came across Luke 10:27:  "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all they heart...and thy neighbor as thyself."  Continuing, the scripture asks, "And who is my neighbor?"  Pete is my neighbor.  He's Fred's neighbor, too.  And for just a little while, we were privileged to serve him.

                                   -- Jim Abney, serves as a Primary teacher (By Small and Simple Things)