Late last week, I was rushing around
trying to get some last minute shopping done.
I was stressed out and not
thinking very fondly of the Christmas season right then. It was
dark, cold, and wet in the parking lot as I was loading my car up
with gifts that I felt obligated to buy. I noticed that I was
missing a receipt that I might need later. So mumbling under my
breath, I retraced my steps to the mall entrance. As I was
searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a quiet
sobbing. The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy of about
12 years old. He was short and thin. He had no coat. He was just
wearing a ragged flannel shirt to protect him from the cold
night's chill.
Oddly enough, he was holding a
hundred dollar bill in his hand. Thinking that he had gotten lost
from his parents, I asked him what was wrong. He told me his sad
story. He said that he came from a large family. He had three
brothers and four sisters. His father had died when he was nine
years old. His mother was poorly educated and worked two full time
jobs. She made very little to support her large family.
Nevertheless, she had managed to
skimp and save two hundred dollars to buy her children Christmas
presents. The young boy had been dropped off, by his mother, on
the way to her second job. He was to use the money to buy presents
for all his siblings and save just enough to take the bus home. He
had not even entered the mall, when an older boy grabbed one of
the hundred dollar bills and disappeared into the night.
"Why didn't you scream for help?"
I asked. The boy said, "I did."
"And nobody came to help you?" I
wondered.
The boy stared at the sidewalk
and sadly shook his head. "How loud did you scream?" I inquired.
The soft-spoken boy looked up and
meekly whispered, "Help me!"
I realized that absolutely no one
could have heard that poor boy cry for help. So I grabbed his
other hundred a and ran to my car.
Submitted by Dick,
Williamsport, Md.
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