An Idea Wearing Bib Overalls
Stories
56 Stories For Preaching
He had stumbled over the words many times. He'd even practiced
in front of a mirror. But when the time came to speak he
stuttered again. For months he had been dating the same girl. For
the past few weeks he had been building up his courage because he
wanted to tell her that he loved her. Those words didn't come
easy for him. They especially didn't come easy because he didn't
always get his words exactly as he wanted them to be. Maybe, he
thought, it was because he had watched too many movies. He
thought that because the stars of the cinema spoke eloquent words
that he too would have to speak eloquently. But as often as he
tried to form the words he simply couldn't do it.
Maybe something else would work. If words weren't forthcoming
perhaps something else. That night he recalled that she had
mentioned that her car seemed to be running poorly. She had often
said that she didn't know a thing about machines. So he picked up
the car, took it to a service station, and had the mechanic look
at it. She was right; it needed a tune-up. He didn't say much
about it to her. But when he returned the car to her apartment
she thanked him.
Later in that same week he remembered that she had often
mentioned the fact that with all of her work and the demands of
her schedule she didn't have time to visit her mother as often as
she wanted. His work was a little slow that week so he decided
that he could carve out an hour for a short visit. Again, when
they next met, he didn't say much. But she thanked him for what
he had done.
After two weeks had passed his words still stuck in his
throat. He still wanted to say that he loved her, but he
couldn't.
On Monday evening of the third week, after all of his
practiced sentences and stuttering attempts; after the automobile
tune-up and the afternoon visit with her mother, they went out
for dinner. She appeared to be uncomfortable, like something was
on her mind, but she hadn't yet been able to muster the right
words or to find the courage to say them. Finally the moment
came.
She told him how much she appreciated all that he had done.
She went on to say that she had been wanting to tell him
something for quite a while now, but that she'd been afraid to.
"You know," she said, "that your care and concern have touched
me deeply." She paused, and then continued. "This must be what it
feels like to be loved. I have known other men who say they love
me. But you are the only one who has acted like this." She paused
again. After a deep breath she continued, "If I had the courage I
would say that I love you but your actions have spoken so much
more eloquently than anything I could say. Thank you for your
love."
in front of a mirror. But when the time came to speak he
stuttered again. For months he had been dating the same girl. For
the past few weeks he had been building up his courage because he
wanted to tell her that he loved her. Those words didn't come
easy for him. They especially didn't come easy because he didn't
always get his words exactly as he wanted them to be. Maybe, he
thought, it was because he had watched too many movies. He
thought that because the stars of the cinema spoke eloquent words
that he too would have to speak eloquently. But as often as he
tried to form the words he simply couldn't do it.
Maybe something else would work. If words weren't forthcoming
perhaps something else. That night he recalled that she had
mentioned that her car seemed to be running poorly. She had often
said that she didn't know a thing about machines. So he picked up
the car, took it to a service station, and had the mechanic look
at it. She was right; it needed a tune-up. He didn't say much
about it to her. But when he returned the car to her apartment
she thanked him.
Later in that same week he remembered that she had often
mentioned the fact that with all of her work and the demands of
her schedule she didn't have time to visit her mother as often as
she wanted. His work was a little slow that week so he decided
that he could carve out an hour for a short visit. Again, when
they next met, he didn't say much. But she thanked him for what
he had done.
After two weeks had passed his words still stuck in his
throat. He still wanted to say that he loved her, but he
couldn't.
On Monday evening of the third week, after all of his
practiced sentences and stuttering attempts; after the automobile
tune-up and the afternoon visit with her mother, they went out
for dinner. She appeared to be uncomfortable, like something was
on her mind, but she hadn't yet been able to muster the right
words or to find the courage to say them. Finally the moment
came.
She told him how much she appreciated all that he had done.
She went on to say that she had been wanting to tell him
something for quite a while now, but that she'd been afraid to.
"You know," she said, "that your care and concern have touched
me deeply." She paused, and then continued. "This must be what it
feels like to be loved. I have known other men who say they love
me. But you are the only one who has acted like this." She paused
again. After a deep breath she continued, "If I had the courage I
would say that I love you but your actions have spoken so much
more eloquently than anything I could say. Thank you for your
love."
