It was the last school day before Christmas break. Just home from my school, my brother Paul was taking off his jacket. “So what did you get?” my mom asked.
Mom and Paul had spent the previous evening at the local
five-and-dime looking for a Secret Santa present. The teacher’s note about the gift exchange had been lost in my brother’s coat pocket and found miraculously at the last moment. It had read: “Purchase a present for a boy. Please spend five to ten dollars.” Paul and Mom had walked the aisles looking for something good and finally settled on a Duncan butterfly yo-yo. Yo-yos were the rage at school, and at seven dollars, this one was well within the suggested amount.
“So,” Mom asked again, “what did you get?” Paul opened his hand and showed her a battered miniature car, its paint worn from handling. My mother held it in her hand. “Really?” she asked. “Who gave it to you?” She tried to cover up her disappointment. Who would give a beat-up old toy car when the instructions had clearly said, “Spend five to ten dollars”? “Andy,” Paul said, looking down at the car. “Isn’t it great? It’s his
favorite. And he gave it to me!”
Lord, help me always to give generously
and to receive thankfully—from my heart.
