Monday, 14 December 2015





The Love of a Giver.




 My Christmas Card to You 


I was looking at a Facebook page where people were remembering Christmas time during there youth. How simple things were in those days and the contrast of desires of people between then and now. I am not going to make any contrast here  I will leave everybody to do that for themselves. I just thought I would share a story with you  and a little thought to go with it.

I know this is a busy time and few people will read this but I was asked by a friend to start blogging again and this is my first little venture to maybe doing just that. 

Here is a little story for you.

Bobby was getting cold sitting out in his back yard in the snow. He didn't wear boots; he didn't like them and anyway he didn't own any. The thin shoes he wore had a few holes in them and they did a poor job of keeping out the cold. 


He had been sitting thinking, and, try as he might, he could not come up with an idea for his mother's Christmas gift. He shook his head as he thought, "This is useless, even if I do come up with an idea, I don't have any money to spend. 


Ever since his father had passed away three years ago, the family of five had struggled. It wasn't because his mother didn't care, or try, there just never seemed to be enough. She worked nights at the hospital, but the small wage that she was earning could only be stretched so far. 



What the family lacked in money and material things, they more than made up for in love and family unity. Bobby had two older and one younger sister, who ran the household in their mother's absence. 



All three of his sisters had already made beautiful gifts for their mother. Somehow it just wasn't fair. Here it was Christmas Eve already, and he had nothing. Wiping a tear from his eye, Bobby kicked the snow and started to walk down to the street where the shops and stores were. It wasn't easy being six without a father.



Bobby walked from shop to shop, looking into each decorated window. Everything seemed so beautiful and so out of reach. It was starting to get dark and when he reluctantly turned to walk home, suddenly his eyes caught the glimmer of the setting sun's rays reflecting off something along the curb. He reached down and discovered a shiny pound coin. 



Never before has anyone felt so wealthy as he felt at that moment. As he held his new found treasure, a warmth spread throughout his entire body and he walked into the first store he saw. His excitement quickly turned cold when salesperson after salesperson told him that he could not buy anything with only a pound. 



He saw a flower shop and went inside to wait in line. When the shop owner asked if he could help him, Bobby presented the pound and asked if he could buy one flower for his mother's Christmas gift. The shop owner looked at Bobby and his coin. Then he put his hand on Bobby's shoulder and said to him, "You just wait here and I'll see what I can do for you." 



As he waited, he looked at the beautiful flowers and even though he was a boy, he could see why mothers and girls liked flowers. 



The sound of the door closing as the last customer left, jolted Bobby back to reality. All alone in the shop, he began to feel alone and afraid. 



Suddenly the shop owner came out and moved to the counter. There, before Bobby's eyes, lay twelve long stem, red roses, with leaves of green and tiny white flowers all tied together with a big silver bow. Bobby's heart sank as the owner picked them up and placed them gently into a long white box. 



"That will be one pound young man," the shop owner said reaching out his hand for the coin. Slowly, Bobby moved his hand to give the man his pound. Could this be true? No one else would give him a thing for his pound! Sensing the boy's reluctance, the shop owner added, "I just happened to have some roses on sale for a pound for a dozen. Would you like them?" 



This time Bobby did not hesitate, and when the man placed the long box into his hands, he knew it was true. Walking out the door that the owner was holding for Bobby, he heard the shop keeper say, "Merry Christmas, son." 



As he returned inside, the shop keeper’s wife walked out. "Who were you talking to back there and where are the roses you were fixing?" Staring out the window, and blinking the tears from his own eyes, he replied, "A strange thing happened to me this morning. While I was setting up things to open the shop, I thought I heard a voice telling me to set aside a dozen of my best roses for a special gift. I wasn't sure at the time whether I had lost my mind or what, but I set them aside anyway. Then just a few minutes ago, a little boy came into the shop and wanted to buy a flower for his mother with one pound. 



When I looked at him, I saw myself, many years ago. I too was a poor boy with nothing to buy my mother a Christmas gift. A bearded man, whom I never knew, stopped me on the street and told me that he wanted to give me some money. 



When I saw that little boy tonight, I knew who that voice was, and Iput together a dozen of my very best roses." 



The shop owner and his wife hugged each other tightly, and as they stepped out into the bitter cold air, they somehow didn't feel cold at all. 

It is the little acts of kindness that bring warmth to the inner being not the great big public gestures.

8 comments:

  1. Great start Ralph, lovely story and Merry Christmas!

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  2. Bravo! Jars memories of my own. Merry Christmas!

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  3. Very tbought provoking brought a tear to my eye. The meaning of Christmas is lost because of commercialism. Hope you and yours have a very merry Christmas x

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    1. The very same to you TY for taking time to read.

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  4. This is such a beautiful and touching story Ralph! I loved it! And it's really nice to see you back in the blogging world again :0)

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    1. Thank you Sandra for taking the time to comment and glad to be back .

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  5. This is such a lovely touching story, Ralph It truly warms my heart reading this. I love all your stories. Hoping you continue to blog again even if it is just occasionally as you are a great storyteller. Thank you for writing this ❤️

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