The Little Girl With
The Toothless Grin
I was doing some last-minute Christmas shopping in a toy store and
decided to look at Barbie dolls for my nieces.
A nicely-dressed little girl was excitedly looking through the Barbie
dolls as well, with a roll of money clamped tightly in her little hand.
When she came upon a Barbie she liked, she would turn and ask her father if
she had enough money to buy it. He usually said "yes," but she would keep
looking and keep going through their ritual of "do I have enough?"
As she was looking, a little boy wandered in across the aisle and
started sorting through the Pokemon toys.
He was dressed neatly, but in clothes that were obviously rather worn,
and wearing a jacket that was probably a couple of sizes too small. He,
too, had money in his hand, but it looked to be no more than five dollars
or so, at the most.
He was with his father as well, and kept picking up the Pokemon video
toys. Each time he picked one up and looked at his father, his father
shook his head, "no."
The little girl had apparently chosen her Barbie, a
beautifully-dressed, glamorous doll that would have been the envy of every
little girl on the block.
However, she had stopped and was watching the interchange between the
little boy and his father. Rather dejectedly, the boy had given up on the
video games and had chosen what looked like a book of stickers instead. He
and his father then started walking through another aisle of the store.
The little girl put her Barbie back on the shelf, and ran over to the
Pokemon games. She excitedly picked up one that was lying on top of the
other toys, and raced toward the check-out, after speaking with her father.
I picked up my purchases and got in line behind them.
Then, much to the little girl's obvious delight, the little boy and
his father got in line behind me.
After the toy was paid for and bagged, the little girl handed it back
to the cashier and whispered something in her ear. The cashier smiled and
put the package under the counter.
I paid for my purchases and was rearranging things in my purse when
the little boy came up to the cashier. The cashier rang up his purchases
and then said, "Congratulations, you are my hundredth customer today, and
you win a prize!"
With that, she handed the little boy the Pokemon game, and he could
only stare in disbelief.
It was, he said, exactly what he had wanted!
The little girl and her father had been standing at the doorway during
all of this, and I saw the biggest, prettiest, toothless grin on that
little girl that I have ever seen in my life. Then they walked out the
door, and I followed, close behind them.
As I walked back to my car, in amazement over what I had just
witnessed, I heard the father ask his daughter why she had done that. I'll
never forget what she said to him.
"Daddy, didn't Nana and PawPaw want me to buy something that would
make me happy?"
He said, "Of course they did, honey."
To which the little girl replied, "Well, I just did!"
With that, she giggled and started skipping toward their car.
Apparently, she had decided on the answer to her own question of, "do I
have enough?"
I feel very privileged to have witnessed the true spirit of Christmas
in that toy store, in the form of a little girl who understands more about
the reason for the season than most adults I know!
May God bless her and her parents, just as she blessed that little
boy, and me, that day!
Author-Sharon Palmer, Tennessee
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where he would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you." Epilogue...There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled. If you want to feel rich, just count all of the things you have that money can't buy.
Author Unknown
On a December night in Chicago, a little girl climbed onto her father's lap and asked a question. It was a simple question, asked in children's curiosity, yet it had a heart-rending effect on Robert May.
"Daddy," four-year old Barbara asked, "Why isn't my Mommy just like everybody else's mommy?"
Bob May stole a glance across his shabby two room apartment. On a couch lay his young wife, Evelyn, racked with cancer. For two years she had been bedridden; for two years, all Bob's income and smaller savings had gone to pay for treatments and medicines.
The terrible ordeal already had shattered two adult lives. Now Bob suddenly realized the happiness of his growing daughter was also in jeopardy. As he ran his fingers through Barbara's hair, he prayed for some satisfactory answer to her question.
Bob May knew only too well what it meant to be "different." As a child he had been weak and delicate. With the innocent cruelty of children, his playmates had continually goaded the stunted, skinny lad to tears. Later at Dartmouth, from which he was graduated in 1926, Bob May was so small that he was always being mistaken for someone's little brother.
Nor was his adult life much happier. Unlike many of his classmates who floated from college into plush jobs, Bob became a lowly copy writer for Montgomery Ward, the big Chicago mail order house. Now at 33, Bob was deep in debt, depressed and sad.
Although Bob did not know it at the time, the answer he gave the tousled haired child on his lap was to bring him to fame and fortune. It was also to bring joy to countless thousands of children like his own Barbara. On that December night in the shabby Chicago apartment, Bob cradled his little girl's head against his shoulder and began to tell a story.
"Once upon a time there was a reindeer named Rudolph, the only reindeer in the world that had a big red nose. Naturally people called him Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." As Bob went on to tell about Rudolph, he tried desperately to communicate to Barbara the knowledge that, even though some creatures of God are strange and different, they often enjoy the miraculous power to make others happy.
Rudolph, Bob explained, was terribly embarrassed by his unique nose. Other reindeer laughed at him; his mother and father and sister were mortified too.
Even Rudolph wallowed in self pity.
"Well," continued Bob, "one Christmas Eve, Santa Claus got his team of husky reindeer -Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and Vixon ready for their yearly trip around the world. The entire reindeer community assembled to cheer these great heroes on their way. But a terrible fog engulfed the earth that evening, and Santa knew that the mist was so thick he wouldn't be able to find any chimney.
Suddenly Rudolph appeared, his red nose glowing brighter than ever. Santa sensed at once that here was the answer to his perplexing problem. He led Rudolph to the front of the sleigh, fastened the harness and climbed in.
They were off! Rudolph guided Santa safely to every chimney that night. Rain and fog, snow and sleet; nothing bothered Rudolph, for his bright nose penetrated the mist like a beacon.
And so it was that Rudolph became the most famous and beloved of all the reindeer. The huge red nose he once hid in shame was now the envy of every buck and doe in the reindeer world. Santa Claus told everyone that Rudolph had saved the day and from that Christmas, Rudolph has been living serenely and happy."
Little Barbara laughed with glee when her father finished. Every night she begged him to repeat the tale until finally Bob could rattle it off in his sleep. Then, at Christmas time he decided to make the story into a poem like "The Night Before Christmas" and prepare it in bookish form illustrated with pictures, for Barbara's personal gift. Night after night, Bob worked on the verses after Barbara had gone to bed for he was determined his daughter should have a worthwhile gift, even though he could not afford to buy one.
Then as Bob was about to put the finishing touches on Rudolph, tragedy struck.
Evelyn May died. Bob, his hopes crushed, turned to Barbara as chief comfort. Yet, despite his grief, he sat at his desk in the quiet, now lonely apartment, and worked on "Rudolph" with tears in his eyes.
Shortly after Barbara had cried with joy over his handmade gift on Christmas morning, Bob was asked to an employee's holiday party at Montgomery Wards. He didn't want to go, but his office associates insisted. When Bob finally agreed, he took with him the poem and read it to the crowd. First the noisy throng listened in laughter and gaiety. Then they became silent, and at the end, broke into spontaneous applause. That was in 1938.
By Christmas of 1947, some 6 million copies of the booklet had been given away or sold, making Rudolph one of the most widely distributed books in the world. The demand for Rudolph sponsored products, increased so much in variety and number that educators and historians predicted Rudolph would come to occupy a permanent place in the Christmas legend.
Author-Tissy
Sally was eight years old when she heard Mommy and Daddy talking about her little brother, Georgi.He was very sick and they had done everything they could afford to save his life. Only a very expensive surgery could help him now and that was out the financial question. She heard Daddy say with a whispered desperation,"Only a miracle can save him now."
Sally went to her bedroom and pulled her piggy bank from its hiding place in the closet. She shook all the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times... The total had to be exactly perfect... No chance here for mistakes... Tying the coins up in a kerchief, she slipped out of the apartment and made her way to the corner drug store.
She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her attention, but he was too busy talking to another man to be bothered by an eight year old. Sally twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise... She cleared her throat... No good... Finally she took a quarter from its hiding place and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!!
"And what do you want?", the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. "I was talking to my brother." "Well, I want to talk to you about my brother, "Sally answered back in the same annoyed tone. "HE'S SICK.... AND I WANT TO BUY A MIRACLE." "I beg your pardon," said the pharmacist. My Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. How much does a miracle cost?""We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I can't help you." Sally replied "Listen, I have the money to pay for it... Just tell me how much it costs." The other man, a well-dressed man, stooped down and asked, "What kind of a miracle does you brother need?" "I don't know," Sally answered... A tear started down her cheek... "I just know he's really sick, and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my folks can't pay for it, so I have my money." "How much money do you have?" asked the well-dressed man. "A dollar and eleven cents," Sally answered proudly..."And it's all the money I have in the world..." "Well, what a coincidence," smiled the well-dressed man. A dollar and eleven cents... The exact price of a miracle to save a little brother. He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said, "Take me to where you live."I want to see your brother and meet your parents."
That well-dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, renowned surgeon, specializing in solving Georgi's Malady. The operation was completed without charge and it wasn't long until Georgi was home again and doing well...Mommy and Daddy were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place. "That surgery...,"Mommy whispered, "It's like a miracle.
I wonder how much it would have cost? "Sally smiled to herself... She knew exactly how much a miracle cost... One dollar and eleven cents... Plus the faith of a little child.
Author-Unknown
In the city of Chicago, one cold, dark night, a blizzard was setting in. A little boy was selling newspapers on the corner, the people were in and out of the cold. The little boy was so cold that he wasn't trying to sell many papers. He walked up to a policeman and said, "Mister, you wouldn't happen to know where a poor boy could find a warm place to sleep tonight would you? You see, I sleep in a box up around the corner there and down the alley and it's awful cold in there, of a night. Sure would be nice to have a warm place to stay." The policeman looked down at the little boy and said, "You go down the street to that big white house and you knock on the door. When they come out the door you just say John 3:16 and they will let you in." So he did, he walked up the steps to the door, and knocked on the door and a lady answered. He looked up and said, "John 3:16." The lady said "Come on in, Son." She took him in and she sat him down in a split bottom rocker in front of a great big old fireplace and she went off. He sat there for a while, and thought to himself "John 3:16....I don't understand it, but it sure makes a cold boy warm." Later she came back and asked him "Are you hungry?" He said, "Well, just a little. I haven't eaten in a couple of days and I guess I could stand a little bit of food." The lady took him in the kitchen and sat him down to a table full of wonderful food. He ate and ate until he couldn't eat any more. Then he thought to himself "John 3:16 ... Boy, I sure don't understand it, but it sure makes a hungry boy full." She took him upstairs to a bathroom to a huge bathtub filled with warm water and he sat there and soaked for a while. As he soaked, he thought to himself, "John 3:16... I sure don't understand it, but it sure makes a dirty boy clean. You know, I've not had a bath, a real bath, in my whole life. The only bath I ever had was when I stood in front of that big old fire hydrant as they flushed it out." The lady came in and got him, and took him to a room and tucked him into a big old feather bed and pulled the covers up around his neck and kissed him goodnight and turned out the lights. As he laid in the darkness and looked out the window at the snow coming down on that cold night he thought to himself, "John 3:16... I don't understand it, but it sure makes a tired boy rested." The next morning she came back up and took him down again to that same big table full of food. After he ate she took him back to that same big old split bottom rocker in front of the fireplace and she took a big old Bible and sat down in front of him and she looked up at and she asked, "Do you understand John 3:16?" He said, "No, Ma'am, I don't. The first time I ever heard it was last night when the policeman told me to use it." She opened the Bible to John 3:16 , and she began to explain to him about Jesus. Right there in front of that big old fireplace he gave his heart and life to Jesus. He sat there and thought, "John 3:16 . I don't understand it, but it but it sure makes a lost boy feel safe." You know, I have to confess I don't understand it either, how God would be willing to send His Son to die for me, and how Jesus would agree to do such a thing. I don't understand it either, but it sure does make life worth living.
Author-Unkown
If anyone knows the authors of the above stories please let me know and I will give credit. If you are the author of the above and wish to have the story removed please let me know and I will remove it but I hope you will give me permission to keep the story so others can enjoy them. Thank you so much.
Midi: I Believe
by Norma Stephenson
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Songs of Praise
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