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. As I was loading my car up with gifts
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 note 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

notes 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 that absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy cry for
help.
So I grabbed his other hundred and ran to my car.