On a cold December day in the late 1970s, Helga Schmidt was trying to finish a bit of holiday shopping. As was often the case during Christmas, nothing was easy or quick. Crowds were everywhere, and anxious shoppers were anything but merry as they pushed and shoved to find much-needed gift items. After fighting through grumpy masses to secure a few things from her long list, Schmidt found herself waiting in a seemingly endless, slow-moving checkout line. Just ahead of her in the bustling Kansas store was an obviously excited young boy and girl carefully holding a pair of women's shoes. The gift was so precious to them that they were fighting over who would get to place the box on the counter. After what seemed like an eternity, it finally came time for the kids to pay for the shoes. Anxiously they set them on the counter and watched as the sale was rung up. As the clerk announced the price, the youngsters' hopeful expressions were immediately transformed. Panic gripped them as they looked from the employee, to the shoes, and then to each other.
"Are you sure on the price?" the boy quietly asked.
"Yes," came the flat reply of the exhausted clerk.
Carefully putting all of their coins and bills on the counter, the disappointed pair looked back at the clerk. She quickly fingered through the small stack of silver and copper before coldly announcing, "You're three dollars short."
"Are you sure?" the girl pleaded. "This is all the money we have."
"Then you'll have to put the shoes back and buy something else," the clerk snapped. "Now move along; you're holding up the line."
Even though she was in a hurry to get home, suddenly Schmidt found the small drama unfolding in front of her much more important than her pressing engagements. As she watched the children start to pick up their coins, she sensed that this pair of shoes was extremely important to the brother and sister. She could tell by the way they had held the box, and by the way they pleaded with the store employee, that this gift was more than an afterthought. It had a much deeper meaning.
Digging into her purse, Helga yanked out her pocketbook. Reaching inside, she retrieved three crisp dollar bills. Leaning down toward the siblings, she quietly offered, "Here are the three dollars you need."
The boy and girl didn't hesitate, hastily grabbing the money with an energy indicating both great relief and deep desperation.
"Thank you," they simultaneously whispered. "Thank you so much!"
Handing the money to the clerk, two sets of exhilarated eyes watched as the woman punched the cash register's keys, slipped the money in the drawer, and placed the shoes into a paper bag. Once they had finally been handed their purchase, the boy and girl turned to Helga and thanked her once again.
"You are very welcome," the woman answered. She then observed, "This gift must mean a lot to you."
"The shoes are for our mother," the little girl explained. "She's very sick and is going to heaven real soon."
"These shoes," the boy cut in, "will match the streets of gold in heaven. We learned about those streets in Sunday school class." Clutching their package as if it was the most precious prize on earth, the duo then walked toward the exit.
Helga, now misty-eyed and still stunned by their explanation, watched them for a second before the clerk's "Will this be all?" snapped her back to reality. Nodding, the woman again turned her attention to the two happy children as they pushed open the store's heavy glass door and disappeared into the night.
Later, as she drove home, Schmidt realized that the faith displayed by those children had been worth much more than the three dollars she had given them. Those youngsters had put Helga's focus on the real reason Christ came to earth. Christmas was suddenly not just about a babe in the manger; it was a time to celebrate what the Lord's whole life and ultimate sacrifice really meant to each person in the whole world.
Adapted from More Stories Behind the Best Loved Songs of Christmas by Ace Collins.
Copyright © 2006 by Ellen Vaughn, published by Zondervan, used with permission.
