A Stranger's Gift

Sarah scraped the bottom of her bowl, resisting the urge to lick the gravy from the bean soup she’d made. Lately, she’d taken to eating after the kids went to bed so they couldn’t see how little she had in comparison to them. Her stomach growled.

Her landlord had been patient, but her car was broken down, her gas shut off which meant she had no heat, stove or water heater. And to top it all off the donut shop where she worked reduced her hours again. There was an unsurmountable pile of bills stored up, thousands of dollars. She and the kids had already gone door to door asking if they could shovel snow for cash. They raised $25, which promptly went toward groceries. Sarah minimized how badly they needed the money by explaining to the children that it was good for them to learn about contributing to the family through hard work, but she felt guilty. “Maybe I shouldn’t have kicked Danny out,” she said out loud, her hand automatically went to her cheek where her last reminder of Danny’s abuse had been inflicted. Danny had been a good provider, as long as she and the kids did everything just right to please him. It was when he struck their daughter that she called the police and filed a restraining order. “No, I was right to make him leave,” she confirmed to herself.

The weary mother lingered by the kids’ room, hand on the door stop, listening to the quiet whiffles of three tired children. She sat down with the little black book that she often wrote the things that she dared not say.

Why God? What do you want from me? What do you expect me to do? I’m out of ideas. I don’t know what else to do. I’m so tired of being the "charity case." I’ve tried to be industrious. I don’t know what else I can do.

The next morning Sarah woke up at 4:30 to walk to the donut shop. It was a half hour walk and she had to be there at 5. She left Jeremy in charge. She had told him the night before, “Jeremy, you are twelve now and the man of the house. I am trusting you to get your brother and sister out the door for school in time. I’m confident you can do it.” Jeremy looked at her with his serious big blue eyes and nodded.

Sarah wiped away almost frozen tears as she hurried down the street. Slush in her shoes slowed her progress and she ended up being five minutes late. “YOU’RE LATE!” the shop owner shouted. “I’m sorry, sir,” Sarah gulped a breath of nauseatingly sweet air and got to work. All day, Sarah couldn’t think about anything other than how much of a failure she’d been, as a wife, a mother, a human. “Why couldn’t I just please my husband the way my friends please theirs?” she thought. “If I really loved my kids, I would’ve made my marriage work.” Once in a while she even dared to think, “Why doesn’t Danny love his kids enough to take care of them?”

It had been a long day and her boss kept her a few minutes over which meant the kids were home alone. It was on her way home that her foot went into a hole and she twisted her knee. Pain shot through her whole body. She knew this pain for she’d had it several times before. Her knee had popped out momentarily. Luckily, she was only about a block away and she hobbled home. When she plopped onto the couch, her knee was already swollen. But the kids loved taking care of mom and were overjoyed to make a dinner of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and bring it on a tray. Sarah grabbed each one of them, and held them tightly, “You are my treasures, I love you so much.”

Once the kids were in bed, Sarah called her boss to let him know about her injury. He promptly informed her that if she couldn’t come in the next morning, she would no longer have a job. Sarah felt numb. Visions of her family homeless and under a bridge flashed through her mind. Instinctively, Sarah reached for the journal and wrote,

Rent behind. Car broken down and useless. Have to heat up water in the microwave for the kids to bathe. I heard myself call the kids my treasures. They may be my treasures, but how valuable am I to them? Maybe they would just be better without me. God, I thought the answer was to work harder. To be smarter. To do more. And now I can’t do anything. PLEASE HELP!!

Sarah’s tears splashed on the pages of the worn book. She oddly felt relieved having emptied her soul onto the pages of the little book. All at once not being in control felt good, almost relaxing.

The next morning, a Saturday, the mailman dropped his usual bunch of bad news complete with shut off notices and sales ads. Jeremy dumped the mail on his mother’s lap. “Mama, maybe we can go see if more neighbors need shoveling. It snowed again last night.” Sarah held his face in her hand. “I’m so proud of you, baby,” she answered. Jeremy rallied his brother and sister as they piled on snow boots and gloves and scarves. Sarah on the other hand couldn’t help but smile as she heard them bickering in the front yard over who got to use which shovel. She pulled out her journal,

I’m blessed to have such wonderful children, she wrote, but they shouldn’t have to be working to support us. God, I need help!

Leafing through the mail, one envelope caught her eye. It looked like a card rather than a bill. It wasn’t her birthday. Maybe it was a late Christmas card. She opened it with more than a little curiosity. It was a Thinking of You card, and she wondered who would be doing such a thing. Thinking of her. She opened it and something fell out. She read,

“Dear Sarah, We’ve never met, but I am a friend of your sister. She has been telling me that you have fallen on hard times. I have more than I need and believe with all my heart that I am supposed to make this gift to you. Please accept it. I am praying that this gift will come easier from a stranger than a friend and that you realize that there are other people out there who really do care. Love, Debra Gales”

Sarah felt foolish. Her sister was going around telling her story of a failed marriage to her friends and now they were all going to be sending her $20 checks. How embarrassing! Sarah had been very careful to leave the details out of what was happening in their finances so that they wouldn’t be looked on as a charity case. She felt mildly irritated and leaned over to pick up what she now supposed was a check off of the floor. Wincing as she stretched her sore knee, she uncreased the check. It wasn’t $20, or $200 or even $2,000. It was $20,000!

Sarah buried her head in the blanket that lay on her lap. Someone had thought of her. She hadn’t shared any of the particulars with anyone. How could this happen? Who gives $20,000 to a complete stranger? What compels a person to do that? She knew that there was someone or something greater involved. And to think that this was true was more than she could bear. She sobbed and laughed and laughed and sobbed until she had no more strength at all. It was funny to her how humiliating $20 would have been, and how overwhelmingly beautiful a gift 100 times greater could be. Though they had never met, someone thought of her because they had been inspired by one who never stops thinking about her, and maybe that was the greatest gift of all.