Right before Christmas 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.
His Mother, on the way to her second job, had dropped off the boy. 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 queried.
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
So I grabbed his other hundred and ran to my car.