[Faith-talk] FW: [B H W M] the christmas scout

[Eric Calhoun]

Original Message: 
From: daniel <daniel_337 at hotmail.co.uk>
To: bhwm at yahoogroups.com
Subject: [B H W M] the christmas scout
Date: 
Thu, 15 Dec 2011 16:42:08 +0000

In spite of the fun and laughter, 13 year old Frank Wilson was not 
happy. It was true he had received all the presents he wanted. And he 
enjoyed the traditional
Christmas Eve reunions with relatives for the purpose of exchanging 
gifts and good wishes. But, Frank was not happy because this was his 
first Christmas
without his brother, Steve, who during the year, had been killed by a 
reckless driver.
Frank missed his brother and the close companionship they had together. 
Frank said good-bye to his relatives and explained to his parents that 
he was leaving
a little early to see a friend; and from there he could walk home. Since 
it was cold outside, Frank put on his new plaid jacket. It was his 
FAVORITE gift.
He placed the other presents on his new sled. Then Frank headed out, 
hoping to find the patrol leader of his Boy Scout troop. Frank always 
felt understood
by him. Though rich in wisdom, he lived in the Flats, the section of 
town where most of the poor lived, and his patrol leader did odd jobs to 
help support
his family.
To Frank's disappointment, his friend was not at home. As Frank hiked 
down the street toward home, he caught glimpses of trees and decorations 
in many of
the small houses. Then, through one front window, he glimpsed a shabby 
room with limp stockings hanging over an empty fireplace. A woman was 
seated nearby,
weeping. The stockings reminded him of the way he and his brother had 
always hung theirs side by side. The next morning, they would be 
bursting with presents.
A sudden thought struck Frank, he had not done his "good deed" for the 
day. Before the impulse passed, he knocked on the door. "Yes?" the sad 
voice of the
woman asked. "May I come in?" asked Frank. "You are very welcome," she 
said, seeing his sled full of gifts, and assuming he was making a 
collection, "but
I have no food or gifts for you. I have nothing for my own children."
"That's not why I am here," Frank replied. "Please choose whatever 
presents you would like for your children from the sled."
"Why, God bless you!" the amazed woman answered gratefully. She selected 
some candies, a game, the toy airplane and a puzzle. When she took the 
Scout flashlight,
Frank almost cried out. Finally, the stockings were full.
"Won't you tell me your name?" she asked, as Frank was leaving.
"Just call me the Christmas Scout," he replied.
The visit left Frank touched, and with an unexpected flicker of joy in 
his heart. He understood that his sorrow was not the only sorrow in the 
world. Before
he left the Flats, he had given away the remainder of his gifts. The 
plaid jacket had gone to a shivering boy.
Now Frank trudged homeward, cold and uneasy. How could he explain to his 
parents that he had given his presents away?
"Where are your presents, son?" asked his father as Frank entered the
house.
Frank answered, "I gave them away."
"The airplane from Aunt Susan? Your coat from Grandma? Your flashlight? 
We thought you were happy with your gifts."
"I was, very happy," the boy answered quietly.
"But Frank, how could you be so impulsive?" his mother asked. "How will 
we explain to the relatives who spent so much time and gave so much love 
shopping
for you?"
His father was firm. "You made your choice, Frank. We cannot afford any 
more presents."
With his brother gone, and his family disappointed in him, Frank 
suddenly felt dreadfully alone. He had not expected a reward for his 
generosity, for he
knew that a good deed always should be its own reward. It would be 
tarnished otherwise. So he did not want his gifts back; however he 
wondered if he would
ever again truly recapture joy in his life. He thought he had this 
evening, but it had been fleeting.
Frank thought of his brother, and sobbed himself to sleep.
The next morning, he came downstairs to find his parents listening to 
Christmas music on the radio. Then the announcer spoke: "Merry 
Christmas, everybody!
The nicest Christmas story we have this morning comes from the Flats. A 
crippled boy down there has a new sled this morning, another youngster 
has a fine
plaid jacket, and several families report that their children were made 
happy last night by gifts from a teenage boy who simply called himself 
the Christmas
Scout. No one could identify him, but the children of the Flats claim 
that the Christmas Scout was a personal representative of old Santa 
Claus himself."
Frank felt his father's arms go around his shoulders, and he saw his 
mother smiling through her tears. "Why didn't you tell us? We didn't 
understand. We
are so proud of you, son."
The carols came over the air again filling the room with music: 
"...Praises sing to God the King, and peace to men on Earth."

-- 
I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out
of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my
worst,
then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.