"As a new resident of a small, southern town, I often noticed a stocky, gray-haired man ride by my home on a bicycle. He usually had a tool kit in the wire basket of the bike. Months after I had first noticed him, we were introduced at the home of a new friend of mine, a widow. When she told me his name, she added, 'But we widows call him "Mr. Fix-it." He's just replaced a broken windowpane for me. If we have trouble with dripping faucets, loose door hinges, toasters or irons on the blink, we call him. The only pay he'll take is a snack.'
"Over shared coffee and cinnamon rolls, I asked him why he went around helping widows. 'Well,' he said, 'after I lost my Annie, I got to wondering how she'd have managed if I'd been taken first. She didn't know the business end of a hammer and would have had to hire someone for every little thing. On the small pension she'd have had, and with the cost of repairs today, she'd have had to cut down on necessities, like food.'
"He drained his coffee cup. 'Rich folks can give big money to their churches, schools and hospitals as memorials to loved ones that have passed away. All I've got is time and a little know-how. What I do for others is in memory of my Annie.'" (Nell Bentz, May 1998, Cheers Magazine)
We all have a tendency to say, "There's nothing I can do," when, on many occasions, there are little things like those "Mr. Fix-it" did that we can do. You may, like me, have had a "mechanical bypass," but a short visit with a shut-in or driving someone to the supermarket or a doctor's appointment would be a wonderful blessing. When we do those "little things," it gives all us something to smile about.
You are successful when you develop a swelled heart, not a swelled head. — Anon
To find out more about Zig Ziglar and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate web page at www.creators.com.
Photo credit: MabelAmber at Pixabay