I pulled up outside my apartment complex and retrieved my bank deposit bag from my car. I was there to collect quarters from the laundry room that was located on the premises. This bag was perfect for collecting the quarters from the coin operated machines.
On my way to the laundry room I noticed a disheveled man going through the trash cans. I asked him what he was doing. In broken English he responded his name was Juan and he was a neighbor who lived in some apartments down the street and he was collecting aluminum cans for income.
Well, I went on my way and as I was emptying the machines into my bag that was about to overflow I got an idea. I shot up a quick prayer to God asking Him that Juan would still be there when I returned to my car.
He was there and in broken Spanish I asked him to give me his hands. When he held them out to me he apologized. I don’t know if it was because they were filthy and grimy or if he thought he was in trouble for what he was doing.
I began pouring out all the quarters into Juan’s hands. It looked like a silver fountain flowing from my hands into his hands. His look of concern turned into a quiet smile and he expressed his genuine, sincere gratitude.
Oh, the title of the story? The quarters flowing into Juan’s possession may have looked like a silver fountain bubbling over but it was not the real fountain of blessing. No, the real fountain of blessing was welling up inside of me as I realized I had done the right thing.
On my way to the laundry room I noticed a disheveled man going through the trash cans. I asked him what he was doing. In broken English he responded his name was Juan and he was a neighbor who lived in some apartments down the street and he was collecting aluminum cans for income.
Well, I went on my way and as I was emptying the machines into my bag that was about to overflow I got an idea. I shot up a quick prayer to God asking Him that Juan would still be there when I returned to my car.
He was there and in broken Spanish I asked him to give me his hands. When he held them out to me he apologized. I don’t know if it was because they were filthy and grimy or if he thought he was in trouble for what he was doing.
I began pouring out all the quarters into Juan’s hands. It looked like a silver fountain flowing from my hands into his hands. His look of concern turned into a quiet smile and he expressed his genuine, sincere gratitude.
Oh, the title of the story? The quarters flowing into Juan’s possession may have looked like a silver fountain bubbling over but it was not the real fountain of blessing. No, the real fountain of blessing was welling up inside of me as I realized I had done the right thing.
