Max lived in a homeless shelter. He was given some change and saw a small stuffed animal in a Hallmark store which tickled his imagination. What few knew was that Max had been a war journalist. He had experienced a nervous breakdown in the Middle East and could not hold a job. His family, abandoning him, thought he should just "buck up" and find a job.
But, with a medical history of breakdowns, Max could only do things for a short while. Then, he would have nightmares. The small animal in the window of the shop reminded him of something he could not quite remember.
And, he did not have enough change to buy it. Max was 42, tall and very thin. He looked much older than his age. One of the few vets to have never taken drugs and one who did not drink, he did not fit into certain "programs" where he lived. Thankfully, Max lived in a southern state, so he could be outside most of the time. At night, he slept in the shelter.
Max did not go to church. He had been raised Jewish, and left that religion for a secularism, which no longer kept him steady. His modern philosophies died on the battlefield. Two of his buddies were blown up in front of him, which resulted in Max's first breakdown. But, Max had found God and Christ through his limited experiences. He knew that Jesus was really true God and Man. Now, Max was no theologian and could not explain to others what had happened to him. He had seen Christ. He had walked with Christ.
Now, in early March, he found himself in the emergency room of a small hospital. He had been bitten by a stray dog and had to have rabies shots, as the dog could not be found. Max knew he was in for more pain.
He had been triaged, owing to a serious car accident involving a horse and rider, therefore, he waited patiently in the waiting area. Max sat down next to a well-dressed man, who was bent over. Max felt sorry for this man.
"Sorry you are so upset," Max said. The man, about 50 years old, sat up and stared at Max. "Thanks. My wife is in there in serious condition."
"I shall pray for her," Max said. The man stared at him again. "Do you pray?"
"Yes, I do." The man said, "But, you look like you have had hard times."
"Yes, Sir, I have, but it all could be worse. But, you are lucky to have a wife."
The man answered, "I have not appreciated her enough. She is a lovely woman. Her horse bolted on the side of our property and ran into a lane, just as a car came up. Her pelvis is completely smashed and she has head injuries."
Max looked at the floor. "I shall pray right now." And, he did.
The man sat up straight and looked at Max. "Here, take this note I am writing and keep it until you need it."
Max took the folded sheet and put it in his pocket. He kept praying. Just then, a doctor came out and asked for Mr. Colridge. The rich looking man got up and followed the doctor into the back rooms.
Then, a nurse came up and asked Max to follow her. She said they were going to start a series of shots and that he would have to come back six times for shots and check ups.
Max nodded and went into his cubicle. The shot hurt, but Max offered the pain up for Mrs. Colridge.
As he sat there drinking juice the nurse brought in, Mr. Colridge walked past the opening to Max's cubicle.
"Hey, my wife is going to be airlifted to Memphis. She is going to be fine. Lots of work, lots of physio, but fine. I guess your prayers work."
Max answered, "God is good." And, the man nodded, leaving quickly.
The nurse came back. "Do you have someone to take you back to the shelter?"
Max answered, "No, Ma'am. I take a bus down to the park."
"Well, we shall keep you here for a bit, and then you can go. See you soon."
Max drank another carton of juice. He was thinking of the Colridges.
When Max finally got back downtown and sat on "his" park bench, he decided to look at the note Mr. Colridge had given him. The note stated, "This man helped me so give him anything he wants in the shop. Mr. James Colridge, owner of the Delrich Gift Shops."
Max laughed out loud. Then, he got up off his bench and walked a half-mile to the Delrich Gift Shop. He asked the girl for the red, small animal in the window. She obviously did not want to wait on Max, but she picked the stuffed toy out of the window and put it on the counter.
"Do you have money for this?" Max took the folded paper out of his pocket.
"I have this." The girl looked at the note and replied, "Stay here for a minute. I have to get the manager."
In a few minutes, a young man came out and looked at Max. He looked at the note. "Yes, this is Mr. Colridge's handwriting. Give the man the toy. If it is fake, I shall pay for it."
The young woman looked at both the manager and Max, but she obeyed. She put the small red animal in a bag. The manager grabbed some candy and small things off the side of the counter and put those in the bag as well.
"Thanks," said Max and he walked out, with his small parcel of goodies.
Sitting on the bench, Max took out the small red animal. It seemed to remind him of something. Then, he remembered. Sam, one of his buddies who was killed in front of him, had loved war games. He would talk of the Red Dragon Infantry where he could choose his weapons. Max did not play games, but he and Sam were like brothers. The small red dragon reminded him of Sam.
Max said a prayer to God thanking Him for Sam, for Joe, the other man killed, for Mr. Colridge, for Mrs. Colridge. He wondered at the connections among all peoples. He wished these connections were more obvious to others.
Then, he began to eat the little candies in his bag. At the bottom of the bag lay a pen and a small tablet of paper. Max ate and wrote this story.....he felt his talent coming back. "Thanks, Sam, " he said, and wrote away.
