Herman and I locked our general store and dragged ourselves
home. It was 11:00 PM on 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 woken up 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 that 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 growning 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 about 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 town doing out here?" I scolded, hurring 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 layaway shelf with it's lone
package. "Wait a minute," I told the boys. I walked over, picked
up the package, unwrapped it and, miracle of miracles, there was
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 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 sent you."
The tingles in my spine weren't from the cold. God had planned
this. As we waved good-bye, I turned home to a brighter Christmas.
