Oh, I
couldn't wait for the big day because I had asked for a shiny, purple spider
bike—with a banana seat and raised handlebars.
I imagined it taking me down the streets of Beckley in style and make me
the envy of all my friends. I would be devastated if I didn't get it.
Dad was
late coming home from work at the fire station, but finally the car pulled up.
We heard him stomping the snow off his boots and shaking the snow off his coat.
When he came into the kitchen and kissed mom, we knew something was
different.
Dad told us
about a fire that afternoon. An entire
house burned to the ground leaving a family with ten children homeless. And even worse, the little bit of Christmas that
they had been able to get with their welfare check, was gone—up in smoke.
I felt so
sad for that family, but so glad that we had a house, a tree and a place for
Santa to leave our toys. But somehow,
the joy went out of the day. After
dinner I went to my room with a tummy ache.
Even the Christmas cookies didn't look good to me.
Restless
and unable to fall asleep, I went to my closet and pulled out my paper dolls. I was too old for them anyway. The Operation
game was boring and I never played the Racco
card game anymore either. I found my favorite things and began stacking some of
them in a pile. Excitedly, I went
downstairs to get an empty box. I
grabbed a handful of cookies on the way back to my room.
After packing
the box with my favorites, along with some that hadn’t been played with since
last Christmas, I ate my cookies and drifted off to sleep. I dreamt of a shiny
purple spider bike with the banana seat and raised handlebars.
The next
morning, I showed the box of toys to dad and asked him to take me to the fire
station. Without any explanation, he understood. Dad carried the box to our blue ‘64 Buick
Skylark. As he put it in the trunk, I yelled, “Wait!”
I ran back
into the house and looked at my bride doll sitting on the bed. I loved that doll, especially her beautiful
dress. I picked up the doll and put it
back down. Then I heard the car horn and
picked up the doll again and ran down the stairs. Just as dad was about to
close the trunk I said, “No, let's put the box in the backseat.”
We drove
the short distance through downtown Beckley. I saw last-minute shoppers running
into Grants and Murphy's as they brushed the snow off of their shoulders. At
the fire station dad took the box out the back seat while I adjusted the dress
on my bride doll. He asked me if I really
wanted to give it away and said I didn't have to. I just smiled at him and put
the bride doll on top of the box.
Leaving the
fire station, I saw the look of pride on my father’s face. At the same time I didn't understand my own
emotions. When I got home and saw my empty
closet all I could think about was that there was room for all the new toys!
The
following morning I saw my new bike—a shiny purple spider bike with the banana
seat and raised handlebars. I just
wanted to go rip roaring up and down the streets for all my friends to
see. Then I remembered the children who
didn't have a home, and suddenly my heart was flooded with gratitude. Oh I had said, “thank you” all my life—“Thank
you Mom, thank you Dad, thank you Nannie, thank you Granddad,” but now I really
meant it. I was so grateful for my
loving family, our home and all of our blessings.
In one
small act I had moved from being a kid who was only thinking of what I wanted
to one of compassion and gratitude. Now,
don't get me wrong, I still showed off that shiny purple spider bike with the
banana seat and raised handlebars.
I had
wanted to make a difference for those kids whose home had burned down and
instead the experience had made a difference in my life. I learned that the more I gave, the bigger impact
it had on my own life.
I was reminded of this story when Barb, a middle
aged, soft spoken woman, talked to our church congregation a few weeks ago. She
told us that she had not been with her children at Christmas for the past two
years because she was in jail. She was relieved that her children would get
Christmas presents from her that were bought by generous people. She asked us to
buy gifts for the children who have a parent who is incarcerated.
Today’s gift was to take presents for a one-year-old
girl whose father is in jail. The gift tag provided to us said, “Your Dad
misses you very much and can’t wait to see you.” We placed the packages in a
pile with others for Barb to distribute. I hope the teddy bear, toy phone and
outfits help the little girl know her father is thinking of her.
In Giving,
Robin
No comments:
Post a Comment