It was December 10, 1994, and I was suffering from the demands of too many responsibilities with so little time to accomplish my tasks. It was Saturday evening and I knew it would take the rest of the night to prepare my Sunday school lesson, but I was exhausted from the busy day. My lesson was on faith, hope, and charity and I had planned to share a Christmas story that was meaningful in my life.
The story was about a young shepherd boy who had an encounter with the Savior, while he tended sheep along the hillside. The young boy didn't know that the tall man he had welcomed into his camp was the Messiah. He was eager to share the food his mother had prepared and reached into his bag bringing forth nuts, dried fruits, and a few wild berries - but he carefully withheld the sweet bread she had made for his birthday gift. It was a rare occasion to have such a treat.
They sat together upon the hillside sharing the meager portions, but the shepherd boy felt sorrowful and ashamed that he was unwilling to share the gift that was tucked away inside his bag. He humbly confessed that he had withheld the "best portion for himself" and as he brought forth the savory gift, he placed the small bundle before the Savior. This time the shepherd boy gave all that he had and with a willing heart. It was more than enough and it seemed fit for a king.
As the night progressed, it was time for the kind stranger to leave, but the shepherd boy begged his new friend to stay longer. The Savior reached out, placed His hand upon the boy's crooked and curved shoulders and healed the physical afflictions that the boy had since birth. The Master disappeared into the night and tears of joy flowed from the shepherd boy's eyes, as he began to understand the miracles of this magnificent visit.
I knew the lesson would take a tremendous amount of preparation, but I had no idea what my efforts would call forward. My intentions were to compile a small book containing the story of 'The Little Shepherd Boy' for each person in the class and place it in a brown paper bag with a small bundle of sweet cake for the lesson on faith, hope, and charity. It was simple, but poignant in celebration of Christmas.
I worked late into the evening and I felt somewhat overwhelmed and alone. I drove to the store to buy the sweet bread and noticed it was already half past nine. I didn't know how I was going to finish the project before midnight. Tired and discouraged, the tears began to welt up in my eyes and in faith I offered a prayer for a little miracle to prevail on my behalf. I had 36 books to compile (20 pages each) and I still had a lesson to prepare. I collected my thoughts and entered the store.
When I was leaving through the front doors of the market, I caught a glimpse of a man standing a short distance from the entrance. He was a tall thin man who's clothing seemed unusual and his appearance gave me the impression he was not from this country. He was wearing a long shawl draped over his head that lay loosely upon his shoulders, hardly enough to keep him warm, and a robe of sorts that came down around his feet. I could see that he was cold from this winter's night.
An elderly man was talking to this man and although, I couldn't hear what was being discussed, I felt drawn toward them. When I approached the two men, I could hear broken English being spoken in a soft and reverent tone by the elderly man and then he addressed me. "This man is hungry and he needs money to buy some food." Before I could respond, he began searching through all of his pockets for whatever change he could find and placed everything into the strangers hand. "I am sorry, this is all that I have." He humbly said.
I began fumbling through my purse and found a few dollars and laid them in the man's hand beside the coins. There was a genuine spirit of warmth that surrounded the bitter cold night. Suddenly, the story of the young shepherd boy flashed through my mind, "was I withholding the best portion for myself"? Without hesitation, I reached back into my purse and gave all the money that I had. Tears flooded my eyes and I quickly turned away to hide my overflow of emotions.
I was walking toward my car when I heard someone calling. "Lady...!" I turned around to see the elderly man standing behind me, but I couldn't quite hear what he was saying. "Excuse me," I replied and moved closer in his direction. "Thank you for being so generous to the stranger." He said with tears dripped from his eyes. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and I whispered, "Thank you for being so kind to me!"
In the parking lot of a grocery store, just off main street, the world seemed a little kinder, a little warmer, and a little more like Heaven than earth. Three strangers witnessed the powerful miracles of faith, hope, and charity as peace prevailed on a cold and dreary night.
There is something magical about giving. The world would have us believe that if something is given away, it's no longer apart of your life, but that's not true. Heaven teaches that when something is given away it belongs to the lives of the giver and the receiver and all those who witness the spirit of the gift. I've had a lot of money pass through my hands in my lifetime and have little or no recollection where much of it was spent, but I will never forget the gift that it afforded me that magnificent night on December 10, 1994. by, Linda Sumner Urza, One fine day.
