by Ron Mehl
Roy Angel was a dirt‐poor preacher with a millionaire brother. Back in the oil boom days of the late 1940s, Roy’s older brother happened to own the right piece of Texas prairie at the right time. When he sold, he became a multimillionaire overnight. Parlaying that good fortune, the elder Angel made some strategic investments in the stock market and then cashed in on several mushrooming business enterprises. He moved into the penthouse of a large apartment building in New York City and managed his investments from a posh Wall Street office.
A week before Christmas one year, the wealthy businessman visited his preacher‐brother in Chicago and presented him with a new car—a gleaming, top‐of‐the‐line Packard. Roy always kept his new car down the street in a parking garage, under the careful eye of an attendant. That’s why when he came to get his Packard one morning, he was surprised to see a ragamuffin ghetto boy with his face pressed up against one of the car windows. The little boy wasn’t doing anything suspicious; he was obviously just peering into the new car’s interior with wide, admiring eyes.
“Hello, son,” Roy said. The boy spun around and looked at him. “Is this your car, mister?” “Yes,” Roy replied, “it is.” “How much did it cost?” “Well, I really don’t know.” The boy’s face registered surprise. “You mean, you own this car, and you don’t know how much it cost?” “No, I don’t—because my brother gave it to me. As a present.” At this the boy’s eyes grew even wider. He thought for a moment, and then said wistfully, “I wish… I wish….” Roy thought he knew how the boy would finish the sentence. He
thought he was going to say, “I wish I had a brother like that.”
But he didn’t. The boy looked up at Roy and said, “I wish… I wish I could be a brother like that.”
That intrigued the minister, and because those were more innocent times, he said, “Well, son, would you like to take a ride?”
The boy immediately replied, “You bet!”
So they got in the car together, exited the parking garage, and drove slowly down the street. The little boy ran his hand across the soft fabric of the front seat, inhaled the new‐car smell, touched the shiny metal of the dashboard. Then he looked at his new friend and said, “Mister, would you—could you—take me by my house? It’s just a few blocks from here.”
Again, Roy assumed he knew what the lad had in mind. He thought the boy wanted to show off the car he was riding in to some of the neighborhood kids. He thought, Well, why not? So at his young passenger’s direction, Roy pulled up in front of an old, run‐down tenement building.
“Mister,” the boy said as they stopped at the curb, “would you stay here just a minute? I’ll be right back!”
Roy let the car idle as the boy rushed upstairs and disappeared.
After about ten minutes, the preacher began to wonder where the boy had taken himself. He got out of the car and looked up the unlighted stairwell. As he was looking up the dark stairs, he heard someone slowly coming down. The first thing he saw emerging from the gloom was two limp little legs. A moment later, Roy realized it was the little boy carrying an even smaller boy, evidently his younger brother.
The boy gently sat his brother down on the curb. “See?” he said with satisfaction. “It’s just like I told you. It’s a brand new car. His brother gave it to him, and someday I’m going to buy you a car just like that!”
In this story of two benevolent brothers, the millionaire certainly gave a nice present—but it’s the little boy who is the better example of a generous spirit. How many children dream of giving a new car to their brother or sister? Somehow I get the feeling that this little fellow wouldn’t squander a fortune if it came his way later in life.
During the coming week, we’ll be talking about the incredible power of generosity for good—both inside our marriage and in our relationships with others. Tonight I leave you with a question: Do you have a generous spirit?
- James C Dobson