One hot afternoon, an old man was walking slowly down a dusty path. He was carrying a great big bundle of sticks on his back. Phew! It was heavy. His legs felt like wobbly jelly, and his arms ached.

"Oh dear, oh my," he puffed, sweat dripping down his nose. "These sticks feel heavier than a sleepy bear!"

He trudged on a little further, but then, with a big sigh, he let the bundle of sticks tumble to the ground. He sat down on a rock, fanning himself with his hat.

"I'm so tired," he grumbled to the squirrels chattering in the trees. "This is too much work for an old fellow like me. Oh, I wish Death would just come and take me away from all this trouble!"

No sooner had he said the words than a tall, quiet figure appeared beside him. It wasn't scary, just very still. The figure had a kind, calm voice.

"You called for me?" the figure asked gently.

The old man's eyes popped open wide. He gulped. Suddenly, carrying sticks didn't seem so bad after all!

"Oh! Uh... hello!" he stammered, his tiredness vanishing like mist in the sun. "Yes, I did call! I... I just needed some help, you see. Could you... could you possibly help me lift this bundle of sticks back onto my shoulder? That would be ever so kind!"

The tall figure looked at the old man, then at the sticks, and then back at the old man. Without a word, the figure bent down and, with surprising ease, helped hoist the heavy bundle back onto the old man's shoulder.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" said the old man, feeling a new spring in his step. "That's much better!"

And with a quick nod, he hurried off down the path, whistling a little tune. The bundle of sticks still felt heavy, but somehow, life felt pretty good again.

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