The Gift
I was 8 years old with visions of sugar plumbs dancing in my head. The year was 1960 and third grade was an exciting experience.
The sleepy little town of White Pigeon was nestled in southern, lower Michigan and there were only about 30 students in Miss Naylor's class. Most came from middle income families like my own, but one little boy was obviously different. Every day he came to school in the same tattered clothes. Nothing really fit him. His shoes were old and too big for his feet and every day he played at his desk with a battered little metal car with only three wheels.
Christmas vacation was less than two weeks away and the time had come for all of us to draw names to determine which classmate we would buy a small gift for, and even more importantly, which classmate would be buying a gift for us. Just whose name was drawn by each of us was always a well-guarded secret.
Those last two weeks passed so slowly it was actually painful, but the magic day finally arrived. Not only were we going to get out of school for vacation, but our first Christmas dreams would come true as we held our school party and would get to open our first present of the year. To my dismay, Miss Naylor started the gift procession at the end of the alphabet rather than the beginning with the traditional method. My last name began with B. That put me excruciatingly close to the end of the whole process.
One by one students walked to the tree and picked up their gifts. I thought it would never end, and besides that, all the big, finely wrapped packages were quickly disappearing from under the tree. Finally it was my turn. I rushed to the tree only to find that the package that was left for me, the one that bore my name, was quite small and wrapped in newspaper. I took it back to my desk and sat down to open it. As the tape pulled loose from the paper and the folds of newsprint opened, I found within that small package the second most valuable gift I have ever received. It was a small, battered metal car with only three wheels. The other kids laughed and those final few minutes of class were nearly unbearable as I was teased quite mercilessly, but even at 8 years old I recognized the significance of the gift. The car was certainly old, and yes, it was indeed broken, but it was the only toy that little boy had. It was his most prized possession. He had given me the very best thing he had to give.
Thirty eight years have passed since that Christmas, but every year as we approach the last day of school before Christmas vacation I remember the second greatest gift I have ever received. Why the second you may ask? Because the greatest gift I have ever received came from someone who also sacrificed to give me the very best he had to offer.
The greatest gift I have ever received came from God as He gave His best by sending His son, Jesus Christ, into this world nearly two thousand years ago. As the years passed, Jesus grew strong and wise, lived a perfect life, owed nothing to anyone, and yet as an adult he stood before a mob of accusers without saying a word.
He allowed himself to be declared guilty, by an earthly magistrate, of crimes he had not committed. He was tortured and beaten and finally crucified on a cross where he once again allowed himself to be declared guilty, this time by a heavenly magistrate, of crimes that he had not committed, my crimes and your crimes.
He died on that cross in our place, was buried, and then three days and three nights later he victoriously rose from the dead. He received the punishment that I deserve, that you deserve, as each one of us has not lived a perfect life, and owe nearly everyone including the almighty God.
Jesus paid the price for our failures.
This Christmas as you anticipate the arrival of friends and loved ones and the opening of gifts, don't forget the greatest gift that has ever been offered to you. Don't forget to thank God for sending His Son Jesus into the world. How would you feel if you gave your best to someone and they didn't even bother to thank you?
Just look up to heaven, or bow your head and say, "Thank you Heavenly Father for the gift of Jesus Christ your son. I know he died for me and came back from the dead. I receive Him as my savior. In Jesus name I pray." Amen."
Also, don't forget those people all around you who might receive something simple from you that could make their empty or lonely holiday season brighter. Something simple that they may remember for the rest of their lives: A call, a hug, a smile, a kind word, a visit, a card, even a battered little three wheel car.
This is a true story, and I will never forget.
James W. Blanchard
The sleepy little town of White Pigeon was nestled in southern, lower Michigan and there were only about 30 students in Miss Naylor's class. Most came from middle income families like my own, but one little boy was obviously different. Every day he came to school in the same tattered clothes. Nothing really fit him. His shoes were old and too big for his feet and every day he played at his desk with a battered little metal car with only three wheels.
Christmas vacation was less than two weeks away and the time had come for all of us to draw names to determine which classmate we would buy a small gift for, and even more importantly, which classmate would be buying a gift for us. Just whose name was drawn by each of us was always a well-guarded secret.
Those last two weeks passed so slowly it was actually painful, but the magic day finally arrived. Not only were we going to get out of school for vacation, but our first Christmas dreams would come true as we held our school party and would get to open our first present of the year. To my dismay, Miss Naylor started the gift procession at the end of the alphabet rather than the beginning with the traditional method. My last name began with B. That put me excruciatingly close to the end of the whole process.
One by one students walked to the tree and picked up their gifts. I thought it would never end, and besides that, all the big, finely wrapped packages were quickly disappearing from under the tree. Finally it was my turn. I rushed to the tree only to find that the package that was left for me, the one that bore my name, was quite small and wrapped in newspaper. I took it back to my desk and sat down to open it. As the tape pulled loose from the paper and the folds of newsprint opened, I found within that small package the second most valuable gift I have ever received. It was a small, battered metal car with only three wheels. The other kids laughed and those final few minutes of class were nearly unbearable as I was teased quite mercilessly, but even at 8 years old I recognized the significance of the gift. The car was certainly old, and yes, it was indeed broken, but it was the only toy that little boy had. It was his most prized possession. He had given me the very best thing he had to give.
Thirty eight years have passed since that Christmas, but every year as we approach the last day of school before Christmas vacation I remember the second greatest gift I have ever received. Why the second you may ask? Because the greatest gift I have ever received came from someone who also sacrificed to give me the very best he had to offer.
The greatest gift I have ever received came from God as He gave His best by sending His son, Jesus Christ, into this world nearly two thousand years ago. As the years passed, Jesus grew strong and wise, lived a perfect life, owed nothing to anyone, and yet as an adult he stood before a mob of accusers without saying a word.
He allowed himself to be declared guilty, by an earthly magistrate, of crimes he had not committed. He was tortured and beaten and finally crucified on a cross where he once again allowed himself to be declared guilty, this time by a heavenly magistrate, of crimes that he had not committed, my crimes and your crimes.
He died on that cross in our place, was buried, and then three days and three nights later he victoriously rose from the dead. He received the punishment that I deserve, that you deserve, as each one of us has not lived a perfect life, and owe nearly everyone including the almighty God.
Jesus paid the price for our failures.
This Christmas as you anticipate the arrival of friends and loved ones and the opening of gifts, don't forget the greatest gift that has ever been offered to you. Don't forget to thank God for sending His Son Jesus into the world. How would you feel if you gave your best to someone and they didn't even bother to thank you?
Just look up to heaven, or bow your head and say, "Thank you Heavenly Father for the gift of Jesus Christ your son. I know he died for me and came back from the dead. I receive Him as my savior. In Jesus name I pray." Amen."
Also, don't forget those people all around you who might receive something simple from you that could make their empty or lonely holiday season brighter. Something simple that they may remember for the rest of their lives: A call, a hug, a smile, a kind word, a visit, a card, even a battered little three wheel car.
This is a true story, and I will never forget.
James W. Blanchard
