The Gift Lesson

The tinsel tree sparkled in the window with a colorful life of its own. Christmas music came from tin throated radios. The feel of Christmas was in the air and I was in the tender age of want rather than the mature age of give.

Black and white pictures on TV showed all the wonders of the world of give. But I wanted! My list was long and there was one thing in particular that I desired above all else and it stood on proud display at the local Hallmark store.

Every trip to the shopping center had me begging my mother to go to the Hallmark store. I would run in and gaze up in wonder. He sat on a glass cabinet top in the act of rearing. Smooth plastic lines reflected his muscled body, a look of defiance on his face, mane and tail swirling in wild disarray. He was a Breyer collector’s horse of a hue I had never seen. A light blue, speckled coat represented the blue roan he was supposed to be. Though not realistic in color, he was one of a kind.

I was horse crazy from the moment of my first breath. I owned a small herd of Bryer horses. Any allowance, birthday or Christmas money I received went towards purchasing new ones. But they all paled next to the Blue Roan. I’d never wanted anything so badly in my life. I drug my mother over several times to point out how different he was and in my favorite color no less! My mother just smiled and off we would go.

Two weeks before Christmas I walked into the bustling store and there on the glass case was nothing. I was shocked, my world reeled. I felt warm tears threatening to overflow, I was devastated. Who had bought him? Where had he gone? I knew it couldn’t be my mom, she didn’t drive, and my parents only went shopping when we were home so we always went with them. I had not seen any packages from Hallmark unloaded or hidden.

I began to imagine some girl on Christmas morning opening her present, her excitement and elation when she received the horse of my dreams. My so called Christmas spirit went out the window. I no longer found joy in the colorful decorations or the time honored tunes blasting everywhere. I found no joy anywhere, not even of our family tradition of laying the Baby Jesus in his tiny crib on Christmas Eve.

All I could think about was that other girl, the one who had gotten my horse. I knew she didn’t deserve him; she would have no idea how beautiful he was. She was probably spoiled and had a whole herd of wonderful Breyer horses. I thought about her often, with malice and envy. Then Christmas morning arrived among a flurry of chatter, squeals of surprise and flying paper. My heart was heavy.

Just as it was about to end, Mom brought me one last present. Half heartedly I tore into the colorful wrapped box. I was stunned; there in the box lay my treasured horse! My heart thudded in excitement, tears filled my eyes, and then I realized the girl I had hated and thought about so maliciously was in fact, myself.

I sat holding my precious horse, the joy of having now gone. I realized how awful I had been, it was me who was spoiled and didn’t deserve this gift. I crept to the living room looking at the Nativity with tiny Jesus lying in the manger. I had lost sight of the real reason for Christmas, the joy of loving and giving, and of receiving even when it was not deserved. .

Through the years the Blue Roan has sat on various shelves in my home, the only toy I kept from my childhood, a reminder of a lesson well learned.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 28.11.2011

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Widmung:
To The Creator Who Inspires Me