Gifts for the Needy

It was approaching dusk on Christmas Eve. I was cold and wet and hungry and tired, and I was on my way to deliver presents to one last needy family.

During the preceeding month, I had begged and pleaded with numerous store owners, businessmen, churches and other philanthropists in an effort to ensure that no child on my caseload would go without presents this Christmas. My efforts, in addition to the efforts of the agency had paid off in spades, and I had spent the day delivering the goods.

It really had not gone as I'd expected. To be fair, I suppose I had envisioned myself to be some sort of SaintSantaSocialWorker nobly delivering Christmas cheer to the eternally grateful poor and downtrodden. I was so mistaken!!!

From trailer to shack to shack to trailer my day had consisted of delivering even more loot to place beside Christmas trees. Time after time I was unable to place the presents under the tree because that area was already filled to overflowing, so I placed the gifts with the surrounding presents that were stacked to the ceiling. No one offered to help me carry in the presents and no one said thank you.

Now lest you jump to conclusions, let me tell hasten to say that these were no shabby presents I was delivering. Not only were none of them broken or even slightly used, all were brand new and many were quite pricey. Included in the gifts for each little girl was a Barbie Dream House; all little boys got new bicycles.

As I drove and wearily mused about the day, I told myself that surely this last family would be different, surely this struggling single mom would appreciate the shiny new bike I was bringing for her to give her young son.

And as I rounded the block, I thought about my daughter. What a joy she was and how I wished our living room were crowded with Christmas presents piled to the ceiling! For I, too, was a struggling single mother. Even purchasing a Christmas tree had required much penny pinching and budget juggling. "Ah, well, at least we have each other," I told myself.

I pulled into the ragged trailer park, jumped from my equally ragged car, and began to pull the bike from my trunk just as the rain began. "Thank God this is the last one," I thought. She opened her front door, and I triumphantly held up the gleaming red bicycle. Her face fell.

"I thought you were bringing him a blue one."