Family
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Author Unknown
[ Feature Stories ] [ Contents ]
The Golden Box
Some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree.
Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy." He was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found the box was empty.
He yelled at her, "Don't you know when you give someone a present, there's supposed to be something inside it?"
The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said, "Oh, Daddy, it's not empty, I blew kisses into the box. All for you, Daddy.
The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness.
It is told that the man kept that gold box by his bed for years and whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.
Author Unknown
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A teenager lived alone with his father. The two of them had a very special relationship. Even though the
son was always on the bench, his father was always in the stands cheering. He never missed
a game!
This young man was still the smallest of the class when he entered high school. But his father continued to encourage him but also made it very clear that he did not have to play football if he didn't want to. But the young man loved the game and decided to hang in there. He was determined to try his best at every practice, and perhaps he'd get to play when he became a senior.
All through high school he never missed a practice nor a game, but remained a bench warmer all four years. His faithful father was always in the stands, always with words of encouragement for him. When the young man went to college, he decided to try out for the team as a "walk-on". Everyone was sure he could never make the cut, but he did. The coach admitted that he always kept him on the roster because he always put his heart and soul into every practice. At the same time, he provided the other members with the spirit and hustle they badly needed.
The news that he had made the cut thrilled him so much that he rushed to the nearest phone and called his father. His father shared his excitement and was sent season tickets to all the college games. This persistent young athlete never missed a practice during his four years, and sadly enough he never played in a game either.
It was the end of his senior football season, and as he trotted on to the practice field shortly before the big play off game, the coach met him with a telegram. When the young man read the telegram he became deathly silent. With tears in his eyes he swallowed hard and mumbled to the coach, "My father died this morning. Is it alright if I miss practice today?" The coach put his hand gently on his shoulder and said, "Take the rest of the week off and don't even plan on coming to the game Saturday."
Saturday arrived and the game was not going well. In the third quarter, when the team was ten points behind, a silent young man quietly crept into an empty locker room. With all the courage he could muster he slipped in to his uniform and jogged out onto the sidelines. The coach and his players were astounded to see their faithful teammate back so soon. "Coach please let me play! I've just gotta play today," said the young man. The coach pretended not to hear him. There was no way he wanted his worst player to play in the biggest game of the season. But the young man persisted, and feeling sorry for the kid finally gave in. "Alright," he said "you can go in!"
Before long the coach, the players, and everyone in the stands could not believe their eyes. This little nobody, who had never played was doing everything right! The opposing team could not stop him. He ran, he passed, he blocked and tackled like a star! His team began to triumph and the score was soon tied. In the closing seconds of the game the kid intercepted a pass and ran all the way for the winning touchdown! The fans broke loose! His teammates hoisted him onto their shoulders. Such cheering like you have never heard!
Finally, after the stands had emptied and the team had showered and had left the locker room, the coach noticed that the young man was sitting in a corner all alone. The coach came to him and said, "Kid, I can't believe it. You were fantastic! Tell me. What got into you? How did you do it?" He looked at the coach with tears in his eyes, and said. "Well you knew my dad died coach. But did you know he was blind?" The young man swallowed hard and forced a smile.
"Dad came to all my games,
but today was the first one that he could see me play, I wanted to show him I could do it!"
Author: Amy Moore
Submitted by: Christina Dawson
Kentucky, USA
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“The Christmas Envelope”
Author Unknown
It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas
tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the
branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.
It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas -- oh, not the true meaning
of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it -- overspending, the frantic
running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting
powder for Grandma -- the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think
of anything else.
Knowing that he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts,
sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The
inspiration came in an unusual way.
Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the
school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match
against a team sponsored by an inner-city church, mostly black. These
youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only
thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their
spiffy blue uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.
As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling
without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears.
It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up
walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up
from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of
street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.
Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly. "I wish just one of them
could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing
like this could take the heart right out of them."
Mike loved kids -- all kids -- and he knew them, having coached youth league
football, baseball, and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came.
That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment
of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city
church.
On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling
Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the
brightest thing about Christmas that year, and in succeeding years. For each
Christmas, I followed the tradition -- one year sending a group of mentally
handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of
elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas,
and on and on.
The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing
opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would
stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree
to reveal its contents. As the children grew, their toys gave way to more
practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure.
The story doesn't end there.
You see, we lost Mike last year to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around,
I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve
found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by
three more.
Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the
tree for their dad. The tradition has grown, and someday will expand even
further, with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed
anticipation, watching as their fathers take down the envelope.
Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us. May we all
remember Christ, who is the reason for the season, and the true Christmas
spirit, this year and always.