A Christmas Gift
On the last day before Christmas, I hurried to the mall to buy the remaining gifts that I hadn’t managed to buy earlier. When I saw all the people there, I started to complain to myself, "It is going to take forever here and I still have so many other places to go. Christmas really is getting more and more annoying every year. How I wish I could just lie down, go to sleep, and only wake up after it . . . ".
Nonetheless, I made my way to the toy section. There I started to curse the prices, wondering if all kids really even bother to play with such expensive toys. I definitely was not finding this shopping trip a “joyous occasion”. However, while still in the toy section, I noticed a small boy of about five years old. He was pressing a doll against his chest. He kept on touching the hair of the doll. He looked so sad. I wondered who this doll for was for. The little boy turned to the old woman next to him and asked, "Granny, are you sure I don't have enough money?"
The old lady replied, "You know that you don't have enough money to buy this doll, my dear."
She asked him to stay in this department for five minutes while she went to look around. The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand and looking very wistful. Finally, I walked over to him. I asked him who he wanted to give this doll to.
"It is the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for this Christmas. She was so sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her."
Reassuringly, I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her, after all, and not to worry.
But he replied to me, sadly, "No, Santa Claus can’t bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mother, so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there." His eyes were so sad while saying this. "My sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mummy will also go to see God very soon, so I thought that she could bring the doll with her, to give it to my sister."
My heart nearly stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said, "I told Daddy to tell Mummy not to go yet. I asked him to tell her to wait until I come back from the mall."
Then he showed me a very nice photo of himself, where he was laughing. He told me, "I want Mummy to take this photo with her, too, so that she won’t forget me. I love my Mummy and I wish she didn't have to leave me. But Daddy says that she has to go, to be with my little sister." Then he very sadly stood there, quietly looking at the doll.
I quickly reached for my wallet and took out a few bills. I said to the boy, "What if we checked again, just in case you do have enough money?"
"Ok," he said. "I hope that I have enough."
Without him noticing, I added some of my money to his and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll, and even some spare money left over. The little boy said, "Thank you, God, for giving me enough money."
Then he looked at me and added, "Yesterday, before I went to sleep, I asked God to make sure I have enough money to buy this doll, so that Mummy can give it to my sister. He heard me. I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mummy, but I didn't dare to ask God too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and the white rose. You know, my mummy loves white roses."
A few minutes later, the old lady came back again and I left. I finished my shopping in a totally different state of mind from when I started. I couldn't stop thinking about this little boy.
I remembered reading a local newspaper article two days ago, which had mentioned that a drunk driver in a truck had hit a car, injuring a young woman and a little girl. The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family now had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-assisting machine, because the mother would never come out of the coma. Was this the family of the little boy?
Two days after this encounter in the mall, I read in the newspaper that the young mother had passed away. I couldn't stop myself. I went and bought a dozen white roses. I went to the funeral home where the visitation was being held. There she was, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand, with a photo of the same little boy, and the doll, placed over her chest.
I left the place crying, feeling that my life had been changed forever. The love that this little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard for me to even imagine. Yet in a mere fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him.
Remember, when out enjoying this upcoming holiday season:
PLEASE !!
If you have a drink, don’t drive.
(original from the Internet
Edited by B!)
