>Late last week, I was rushing around trying to get some last minute
>shopping done. I was stressed out and not thinking very*fondly of the
>Christmas season right then. It was dark, cold, and wet in the parking
>lot as I was loading my car up with*gifts that I felt obligated to buy. I
>noticed that I was*missing a receipt that I might need later. So
>mumbling under*my breath, I retraced my steps to the shopping mall
> entrance.
>*
> As I was searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a
>quiet sobbing. The crying was coming from a poorly* dressed boy of
>about 12 years old. He was short and thin.* He had no coat. He was just
> wearing a ragged flannel shirt* to protect him from the cold night's
>chill.
>
>Oddly enough, he was holding a hundred dollar bill in his hand.
>Thinking that he had gotten lost from his parents, I asked him* what
>was wrong. He told me his sad story. He said that he came from a large
>family. He had three brothers and four* sisters. His father had died when
>he
>was nine years old. His*mother was poorly educated and worked two full
>time jobs. She made very little to support her large family.
>Nevertheless, she had managed to skimp and save two hundred dollars
>to buy her children Christmas presents. The young boy had been dropped
>off, by his mother, on the way to her*second job. He was to use the money
>to
>buy*presents for all his siblings and save just enough to take the bus
>home. He had not even entered the mall, when an older boy grabbed one of*
> the hundred dollar bills and disappeared into the night.
>
>Why didn't you scream for help?" I asked.
>The boy said, "I did."
>"And nobody came to help you?" I wondered.
>The boy stared at the sidewalk and sadly shook his head.
>"How loud did you scream?" I inquired.
>The soft-spoken boy looked up and meekly whispered, "Help me..."
>I realized then that absolutely no one could have heard that poor
>boy cry for help.
>So I grabbed his other hundred and ran to my truck.*
>*
>I hope everybody has a MERRY XMAS![]()