524- The Christmas Present

As Christmas drew near, Jane entered one of the supermarkets in Los Angeles to buy Christmas presents for her rich parents. She knew not what to buy them for, they lacked nothing. Finally, she decided to buy two presents. Each of them cost one thousand dollars. She stood at the queue to pay. It was the day before Christmas when the prices beat the record. She got bored expecting to wait for thirty minutes at least.

She saw a boy in ragged clothes strictly holding few dollars in his hands as if they were an invaluable treasure. His young sister was carrying a large pair of shoes made of cheap artificial polished leather. After about twenty minutes, the girl put the shoes in front of the sales woman who said kindly, “Six dollars”

The boy had but three dollars. “Can we leave it to you now and return to take it later?” He asked.

“I want to buy it now.” His sister said weeping.

“Don’t be afraid.” Her brother replied. “I’ll work in our neighbors’ garden and we’ll buy the shoes.”

“No, tomorrow the supermarket will be shut. I want the shoes.”

Tears went down Jane’s cheeks. She gave three dollars to the sales woman and gave the children the shoes.

“Thanks for your love.” The boy looked to Jane and said.

“For whom are these shoes?” Jane asked.

“For Mammy.” The boy replied.

“Who chose them for her?” Jane asked.

“My sister and I.”

“Why did you chose her polished shoes?”

“Mammy is very ill.” The girl answered, “And daddy said that she may celebrate Christmas with Father Jesus. Our Sunday school teacher said that in Heaven everything Is very shining. All roads in the heavenly Jerusalem are of bright gold. Thus, we chose these bright shoes to suit her in her journey.”

Jane was very touched. Tears ran down her cheeks while driving home to give her parents the presents. She entered their chamber and knelt to pray.

→ English translation of the story here at St-Takla.org: هدية الكريسماس.

Two children cared for presenting polished shoes to their mother who is coming to You.

On the contrary, I don’t care for presenting You a pure heart to dwell in.

Prepare my heart to cross to You.

Long No, you’ll never Steal my Crown

Short Stories (Stories for the Youth) Books by Father Tadros Yacoub Malaty

Lies graver than Wounds