Author Unknown
Christmas is for love, it is for joy, for giving and sharing, for laughter, for reuniting with family and friends, for tinsel and brightly colored packages. But mostly Christmas is for love. I had not believed this until a small elf-like student with innocent eyes and soft rosy cheeks game me a wondrous gift one Christmas.
Mark was an 11 year old orphan who lived with his aunt, a bitter middle aged woman who was greatly annoyed with the burden of caring for her dead sister's son. She never failed to remind young Mark, if it hadn't been for her generosity, he would be a vagrant homeless waif. Still, with all the scolding and chilliness at home, he was a sweet gentle child.
I had not noticed Mark particularly until he began staying after class each day (at the risk of arousing his aunt's anger, I later found) to help me straighten up the classroom. We did this quietly and comfortably, not speaking much, but enjoying the solitude of that hour of the day. When we did talk, Mark spoke mostly of his mother. Though he was quite small when she died, he remembered a kind, gentle, loving woman who always spent much time with him.
As Christmas grew nearer, however, Mark failed to stay after school each day. I looked forward to his coming and when, as the days passed, he continued to scamper hurriedly from the room after class. I stopped him one afternoon and asked why he no longer helped me in the room. I told him how I had missed him, and his large eyes lit up eagerly as he replied, "Did you really miss me?" I explained how he had been my best helper.
"I was making you a surprise", he whispered confidentially. "It's for Christmas." With that he became embarrassed and dashed form the room. He didn't stay after school anymore after that.
Finally came the last day of school before Christmas. Mark crept slowly into the room late that afternoon with his hands concealing something behind his back.
"I have your present," he said timidly when I looked up. "I hope you like it." He held out his hands, and there lying in his small palms was a tiny wood box.
"It's beautiful, Mark, is there something in it?" I asked opening the top to look.
"Oh, you can't see what's in it," he replied, "and you can't touch it, or taste it, or feel it, but Mother always said it makes you feel good all the time...warm on cold nights, and safe when you are all alone."
I gazed into the empty box. "What is it Mark," I asked gently, "that will make me feel so good?"
"It's love," he whispered softly, "and Mother always said it's best when you give it away." He turned quietly and left he room.
So now I keep a small box, crudely made from scraps of wood on the piano in my living room and only smile as inquiring friends raise quizzical eyebrows when I explain that there is love in it.
Yes, Christmas is for gaiety and mirth and song, for food and wondrous gifts. But mostly... Christmas is for love.
Be open, be loving, be accepting and see what is being offered this year. God bless you.
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