Dec. 22

Dec.22

As the holidays get busier and busier, we become involved in so many things -- running errands, attending parties, buying presents, choosing wrapping paper and ribbons. It's easy to become focused on material things. Instead, let's remember where our lives ought to be centered.

SCRIPTURE: John 6:35John 10:14John 11:25John 8:12

SUGGESTION: Go look at Christmas light and think about where all light really comes from.

SONG: " The Lord Is My Shepherd", Hymns, Page 108


Envelope Under the Door
by Hazel Shirley

Years ago when I was working in the El Cerrito Variety Store, a freckle faced boy named Tim Hinch applied for a temporary job to earn some Christmas money. My boss, Harold Payel, liked his looks and hired him at $10.00 per week. The job was after school and would last only three weeks. Lay-away shelves were loaded with packages until Christmas Eve. One package had been there since early October.

The lady who had selected the things in that October package had come in one afternoon to ask if I could help her with a big problem. "I have only two dollars," she said, holding back her tears. Her husband drank heavily, and the little she had earned at home doing laundry work wasn't enough even to feed her four young boys properly. A relative had sent her the two dollars; otherwise, there would have been no Christmas gifts at all. I knew she was telling the truth because she lived in my neighborhood.

We had a difficult time trying to make two dollars buy gifts for four little boys. She kept picking up a ball, then putting it down. Finally she gasped, "I must take this for the baby. He's not even two yet. I want him to have a toy."

I could not say a word. I had a lump in my throat as big as a watermelon. As the pathetic little selection was made, she left with her parcel. Such a small parcel for four small boys. As soon as she left, Tim, who had heard the conversation, came to me with a ten-dollar bill. "Please give me an envelope and tell me where that lady lives." "Tim," I said, "where did you get that money? You told me this morning you didn't have a dime."

"I asked the boss for my pay ahead of time. He thinks I want to do some last minute shopping." "Well," I said, "You aren't going to give it to that woman, are you? You need it yourself."

"I know," Tim replied soberly. "That's why I have to give it to her. My mother had to suffer that same way when we kids were little. You see, I know how it feels. I just have to give it to her." He kept holding out his hand for the envelope. I was speechless as I scribbled the name and address for Tim. Then, tucking the bill in the envelope, he looked at me fiercely. "If you ever tell a soul . . . " I just stood there, watching him go, fighting back the sudden tears. One of the clerks came up and asked what was troubling me. I took her hand, "Come with me." I dragged her to the boss's office where I repeated what had happened.

Our boss was a wonderful man. He didn't seem to mind our seeing his tears. Then Christmas really started in that store. The Christmas spirit, mysterious as always, had made its appearance and as always, once started, all the gloom or indifference in the world could not stop it. Tim's pay envelope wasn't empty - it was fuller than ever. Everyone tried to do something special for everybody or just anybody.

When Tim returned he was worried. "What if her husband finds the money or one of the kids gets it? I just shoved it under her door."

But in a little while the woman was back, her tired blue eyes shining like stars, so happy and excited she could scarcely talk. "Just imagine," she exclaimed. "There really is a Santa Claus." Showing me the money, she added, "I wish I knew where it came from. Of course, I must keep some for food, but I can get some more things from the package, if you still have it." My boss had already told me what to do. "Don't worry," I told her. "You have more than enough for all the things. Here, the package is all tied up and ready to go."

"But how . . ."

"Well you see," I explained hurriedly. "After Christmas we would have to mark the things down so much . . ." Oh, how I wanted her to believe me! "Here you are now. You'd better hurry or you'll be too late to get your groceries. Merry Christmas."