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.