The boy stood along the fence and looked at the brightly lit tree, which sat invitingly in the front window of the neighbor’s house. In just a few days, it would be Christmas…a time when this family would gather at the tree and lose themselves in a mountain of paper and packages.
Slowly he walked back to the corner of the driveway of the foster home where he lived and slid into the back seat of the gray Chevrolet. The man driving took him on a long, dark road to a small house in the country and pulled in the drive. He knocked and a middle-aged couple opened the door against the winter night and urged the boy inside. As an orphan, the boy was used to being left with strangers in strange houses and moved wordlessly through the door. The man who had brought him said to the boy, “We’re going to Myrtle Beach for Christmas, and we’re just taking our real kids so you stay here with these people until we get back in about ten days.” The door closed and the young boy was sent to his room in the basement. Christmas came and went.
These many years later, I can tell you that now, as a middle-aged man who was once that boy, Christmas is still my most favorite time of the year.
Favorite for bright lights and happy faces that make up for all those dark and dismal places. Favorite for the joy of giving that makes life so worth living. Favorite for the smooth and bumpy roads life has taken.
Grateful that now I am helping people and their businesses are going places. Most favorite of all for reflecting and knowing that God has blessed others and me beyond all reason!
I trust you will consider this personal view, as it is my hope, regardless of what your personal beliefs or whether or not you celebrate this season- this story will encourage you to always go forward.
Being a victim of what has happened to you is never a good option.