“All tickets, please!” cried the conductor as he made the last round of the bus. He was busy punching tickets until he came to the last two passengers, young Charlie who was a cripple, and a little girl of about eight years.
The child held out her fare, but with a grim smile the conductor promptly handed it back to her. “No use to me, my dear. It’s foreign.”
At first she seemed not to understand; then she said, “But, mother gave it to me.”
“Can’t help it! Got another?” “No.”
“Then you’ll have to get off the bus. We aren’t allowed to take foreign coins.”
“Oh, please,” she begged, “not before we get over the plains and I can see the houses again.”
But the driver only mumbled something about his duty.
“Give her a ticket, driver,” spoke up the cripple. “I’ll pay.”
“Oh, thank you,” beamed the little girl, the anxious look vanishing from her face. “Thank you very much.”
“That’s all right,” returned Charlie with a smile. “Glad to do it.”
The bus rolled on across the plains. Presently the child rose and touched the conductor’s arm. “Please stop here,” she said. And then turning to her good Samaritan friend, she whispered: “Thank you again, and I know Mommy would too, because she worries about me since Daddy was killed in the war. Goodbye,” and with a winsome smile she jumped off the bus.
A half mile more and Charlie’s fare had expired. With the help of his crutch he swung himself off the bus and as he started off along the mile walk that his generosity had cost him, to cheer his spirits he broke out into the words of a hymn:
“All the way my Saviour leads me,
What have I to ask beside?
Can I doubt His tender mercy,
Who through life has been my guide?”
Tap, tap, tap, his crutch sounded on the pavement, as he softly sang the second verse: “Though my weary steps may falter.”
“Dear Lord,” said he looking up, “I’m tired tonight, and my leg hurts; wilt Thou just help me home.”
Presently from the distance and gathering darkness, he could hear shouts and cries of distress. “What’s wrong ahead?” he asked a man who was hurrying by.
“The bus crashed into the rear of a big truck,” said the man.
“Was anybody hurt?” Charlie called after him.
“Everybody, maybe,” the voice shouted back. “The bus is tipped over.”
The cripple’s eyes moistened as he swung on his way again and finally turned down a side street. From an upper window, a widowed mother listened anxiously for the tap of her boy’s crutch on the pavement. He was late tonight. Presently she caught the well-known sound and ran down to meet him.
“Oh, Charlie,” she cried, “I am so glad to see you! I was afraid that something was wrong.”
“Did you, Mother?” he replied. “Well, just wait till I tell you how our loving Father took care of me tonight. After their frugal meal Charlie told his mother of his wonderful escape from the accident, and perhaps death.
God does take care of those who trust in Him. He makes all things work together for good to those that love Him (Rom. 8:2828And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)), so that whatever comes into one’s life, whether joy or sorrow, faith can say, “It is well” (2 Kings 4:2626Run now, I pray thee, to meet her, and say unto her, Is it well with thee? is it well with thy husband? is it well with the child? And she answered, It is well. (2 Kings 4:26)).
“He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty...
ML 11/28/1965