Herman and I locked our general store and dragged ourselves
home. It was 11:00 p.m., Christmas Eve of 1949. We were dog
tired. We had sold almost all of our toys; and all of the
layaways, except one package, had been picked up. Usually we
kept the store open until everything had been claimed. We
wouldn't have been happy on Christmas knowing that some child's
gift was still on the layaway shelf. But the person who had put
a dollar down on the package never returned.
Early Christmas morning we and our twelve-year-old son, Tom,
opened gifts. But I'll tell you, there was something humdrum
about this Christmas. Tom was growing up; I missed his childish
exuberance of past years. As soon as breakfast was over Tom left
to visit his friend next door. Herman mumbled, "I'm going back
to sleep. There's nothing left to stay up for." So there I was
alone, feeling let down.
And then it began. A strange, persistent urge. It seemed to be
telling me to go to the store. I looked at the sleet and icy
sidewalk outside. That's crazy, I said to myself. I tried
dismissing the urge, but it wouldn't leave me alone. In fact, it
was getting stronger. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer,
and I got dressed. Outside, the wind cut right through me and
the sleet stung my cheeks. I groped my way to the store,
slipping and sliding.
In front stood two boys, one about nine, and the other six. What
in the world? "See, I told you she would come!" the older boy
said jubilantly. The younger one's face was wet with tears, but
when he saw me, his sobbing stopped. "What are you two doing out
here?" I scolded, hurrying them into the store. "You should be
at home on a day like this!" They were poorly dressed. They had
no hats or gloves, and their shoes barely held together. I
rubbed their icy hands, and got them up close to the heater.
"We've been waiting for you," replied the older boy. "My little
brother Jimmy didn't get any Christmas." He touched Jimmy's
shoulder. "We want to buy some skates. That's what he wants. We
have these three dollars," he said, pulling the bills from his
pocket. I looked at the money. I looked at their expectant
faces. And then I looked around the store. "I'm sorry," I said,
"but we have no --" Then my eye caught sight of the lay-away
shelf with its lone package. "Wait a minute," I told the boys. I
walked over, picked up the package, unwrapped it and, miracle of
miracles, there was a pair of skates! Jimmy reached for them.
Lord, let them be his size. And miracle added upon miracle, they
were his size.
The older boy presented the dollars to me. "No," I told him, "I
want you to have these skates, and I want you to use your money
to get some gloves." The boys just blinked at first. Then their
eyes became like saucers, and their grins stretched wide when
they understood I was giving them the skates. What I saw in
Jimmy's eyes was a blessing. It was pure joy, and it was
beautiful. My spirits rose.
We walked out together, and as I locked the door, I turned to
the older brother and said, "How did you know I would come?" I
wasn't prepared for his reply. His gaze was steady, and he
answered me softly. "I asked Jesus to send you."
The tingles in my spine weren't from the cold. God had planned
this. As we waved good-bye, I turned home for a brighter
Christmas.
Author unknown
