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
something. Buying for someone who had
everything and deploring the high cost of items,
I 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'll 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. Dad 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.
Author Unknown

5 days before Christmas?