It was only five days before Christmas. The spirit of the season hadn’t yet
caught up with me, even though cars packed the parking lot of our Houston area
Target Shopping Center. Inside the store, it was worse. Shopping carts and
last minute shoppers jammed the aisles. Why did I come today? I wondered.
My feet ached almost as much as my head. My list contained names of several
people who claimed they wanted nothing, but I knew their feelings would be
hurt if I didn’t buy them anything. Buying for someone who had everything and
deploring the high cost of items, considered gift-buying anything but fun.
Hurriedly, I filled my shopping cart with last minute items and proceeded to
the long checkout lines. I picked the shortest but it looked as if it would
mean at least a 20 minute wait.
In front of me were two small children a boy of about 10 and a younger girl
about 5. The boy wore a ragged coat. Enormously large, tattered tennis shoes
jutted far out in front of his much too short jeans. He clutched several
crumpled dollar bills in his grimy hands. The girl’s clothing resembled her
brother’s. Her head was a matted mass of curly hair. Reminders of an evening
meal showed on her small face. She carried a beautiful pair of shiny, gold
house slippers. As the Christmas music sounded in the store’s stereo system,
the girl hummed along off-key but happily. When we finally approached the
checkout register, the girl carefully placed the shoes on the counter. She
treated them as though they were a treasure.
The clerk rang up he bill. “That will be $6.09” the clerk said, as the boy
laid his crumpled dollars atop the stand while he searched his pockets finally
coming up with $3.12. “I guess we will have to put them back, ” he bravely
said. “We will come back some other time, maybe tomorrow.”
With that statement, a soft sob broke from the little girl. “But Jesus would
have loved these shoes,” she cried.
“Well, we’ll go home and work some more. Don’t cry. We’ll come back,” he
said.
Quickly I handed $3.00 to the cashier. These children had waited in line for
a long time. And, after all, it was Christmas.
Suddenly a pair of arms came around me and a small voice said, “Thank you
Sir.”
“What did you mean when you said Jesus would like the shoes?”
I asked. The small boy answered, “Our mommy is sick and going to heaven.
Daddy said she might go before Christmas to be with Jesus.” The girl spoke,
“My Sunday school teacher said the streets in heaven are shiny gold, just like
these shoes. Won’t mommy be beautiful walking on those streets to match these
shoes?”
My eyes flooded as I looked into her tear streaked face. “Yes,” I answered, “I
am sure she will.”
Silently I thanked God for using these children to remind me of the true
spirit of giving. Christmas is not about the amount of money paid, nor the
amount of gifts purchased, nor trying to impress friends and relatives.
Christmas is about the love in your heart to share with those as Jesus Christ
has shared with each of us. Christmas is about the Birth of Jesus whom God
sent to show the world how much he really loves us.
Please show this love as we think of the upcoming season.
If you know the original author of this story, please let us know so that we might give proper credit.
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