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. Then I noticed
that I was missing a receipt that I might need later. So mumbling under my
breath, I retraced my steps to the 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 loudly did you scream?" I inquired. The
soft-spoken boy looked up and meekly whispered, "Help me!"



I realised that absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy cry for
help.




So I grabbed his other hundred and ran to my car