'Better together'

There was once a man who lived in the middle of a small, yet bustling town. Despite the busyness of the town and his particular street, he was always alone. He was known for his tidy house, meticulously-trimmed hedges, and plush lawn. On his front porch was a swing that he had installed, but had never sat in it. His car was new, his pantry full, his life seemingly perfect. Yet when he closed his door at night, the only sound that could be heard was the hum of the refrigerator. 

 

The townsfolk would see him every day, always in motion. Perhaps headed to the bank, or to the office, or to the store. He had no wife, no children, no one to call, “friends”. When anyone asked him why, he simply said, “I’m just too busy.” 

 

One day, a boy delivering newspapers stopped to ask him, “Sir, why do you work so much? Do you ever rest?” The man smiled, though not warmly. “Rest is for those who have earned it. I must keep building, keep storing. Someday, I will have enough.” The boy looked puzzled, “Enough for who?” Stunned, the man couldn’t answer such a simple question.

 

 One winter evening, snow unexpectedly fell on the town. As the man shoveled snow from his walk, he slipped and he fell. Hard. Perhaps he blacked out, he wasn’t sure. For a long while, he lay on the ground, the snow soaking through his coat. He waited for someone to come, calling weakly for help. Even though his neighbors’ windows glowed with firelight, no one noticed him, no one heard. Finally, shivering and sore, he mustered enough strength to crawl back inside. As he lay there sleepless, the question the paperboy had asked long ago echoed in his mind, “Enough for who?” 

 

Years passed. The man grew wealthier. He bought a vacation home, which he rented out almost constantly. He bought a business, then another, and then hired workers to manage them. He counted his profits carefully each night. But as he had every night before, he returned home to silence. 

 

Across the street, a young couple, married just a couple years, started a business: a small bakery, filled with love and the aroma of donuts, pastries, and bread. They were not rich, not like the man with the empty house. Their clothes were plain and their car old, but their shop was warm, and they were never lonely. 

 

Every morning, they rose before dawn. The sound of their laughter and singing could be heard outside as they mixed the ingredients and shaped the dough. When one of them was tired, the other one was there to give strength. When one was discouraged, the other one brought joy. And when one stumbled carrying flour, the other one reached out a steady hand. 

 

Despite the beauty of their relationship, their business was not without hardship. Some days the customers were few and the money was short. A customer once asked them how they kept such cheer. The husband replied, “Because we walk together. When I fall, she lifts me. When she grows cold, I keep her warm. And when danger comes, we stand back-to-back. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” 

 

As the solitary man grew older, he noticed he was growing weaker, while noticing the couple at the bakery growing stronger. His house was quiet and empty while the bakery was always full of life. He could hear children laughing, friends gathering, and neighbors coming by just to buy another loaf of their bread. 

 

 One afternoon, he passed by the bakery while the wife was outside sweeping. “Would you like to try a new bread we’re testing?” she asked kindly. The man hesitated, unsure whether he should accept “a freebie”. He accepted the gift and as he ate, he realized it was the first time in a very long time that he had shared food with another person. 

 

That one visit changed something inside him. He began to intentionally pass by the bakery to enjoy the aroma. Then he walked in and bought a pastry or two. Soon, he lingered to talk. He told the couple of his houses, his savings, his long hours of work. Finally, one day he confessed, “I thought I was building a good life, but I have built only walls.” The husband laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “Walls keep things out...and you in. You have stored much but shared little. Let me ask you: what good is treasure if no one rejoices with you?” 

 

That night, the man went back to his meticulously kept house, sat alone in his expensive chair, and though about all he had accomplished. He thought of the newspaper boy’s words years earlier, and the laughter that spilled out of the bakery. And then he thought of how easily his fall in the snow might have been the end of his life with no one to care. In that moment he realized that he was incredibly rich in things, but extremely poor in the things that matter. He had gained the whole world, but he had no one to share it with. 

 

So, he set his mind to change that. It began slowly at first, but he gave away one of his houses to a struggling family. He sold another and used the money to help repair the old playground in town. He began to spend time with the bakers and with his other neighbors he had once ignored. Little by little, the walls he had built began to crumble. 

 

Years later, the man passed away. The townsfolk gathered for his funeral, overflowing the small church he had begun to attend. Families he had helped, children he had begun to love, church members he served with, and the bakers he had learned so much from, were all there to celebrate his life. They remembered him. Not for his houses or his wealth, but for his kindness, and his friendship. They spoke of his late but genuine discovery: that life is not measured by what you store up, but by what you pour out. 

 

 And so, we are all left with this lesson written not on stone, but on our hearts: Two are better than one. Woe to the one who falls with no one to lift him. But blessed is the one who walks with companions. For though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves—and a cord of three strands is not quickly broken. We are better together.