Saturday, December 31, 2016

A Box of Air

Hello, all. I said on yesterday that I would tell you of a situation that I was made aware of that bothered me immensely. Please read this poem first.

Umph! Umph! Umph!

She went to bed with not much hope
About presents with Christmas being the next day
For she knew that there were no gifts
Because money, for them, was very tight
Yet, she hoped, against all hope, that 
Just one present would appear during the night.

Christmas Day dawned bright and fair
With her childish hopes of a single
Present dying right there
There was no mysterious box labeled with her name
The only box that she had was the mythical
Box in her mind and that box contained only air.

Then she thought about the Savior and
The reason for the Christmas celebration
And her disappointment was replaced 
With a sense of elation.

She made a vow to herself that should
She ever have a child, that child would
Always know the joy of the single present
And how it made this Christmas worth a smile
Because this is the day that the nation has set
As the birthday of our ultimate gift, the Christ Child.

As a child, I knew what it was to get up on Christmas morning and have a 25 cents coloring book and a nickel box of crayons wrapped in tissue paper. But the love of my Mother was there wrapped in those meager gifts. I cannot imagine getting up and having nothing. Yet, this is what happened to a child that I know. I was made aware of the situation two days ago and have since done what I could have to rectify it. Nothing can erase the hurt that the child felt on that Christmas morn. It is a memory that she will carry with her until her dying day, but she can be taught to use that memory as fodder for the real celebration of all Christmases hence.

To those pragmatists among us, her situation was made harder by the knowledge of what other children around her had received. However, she will be okay because the Lord has made our psyche resilient that way.

Alma L. Jones
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