Give What You´ve Got

A compilation

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Agnes W. Thomas tells the story of what happened when her next-door neighbor died and left a fourteen-year-old daughter named Amy who was often alone when her father was at work:

“Amy spent much of her after-school time in my apartment, so I decided to teach her how to crochet. Over the years we spent many happy hours together as we worked.

“One Christmas we called a local nursing home and asked if they had any residents who would not be receiving gifts at Christmas. Amy and I took our crocheted lap robes to these people on Christmas Eve.

“The following year Amy married and moved away, and later when she came back to our area with her beautiful, red-haired baby girl, she called and asked if I planned to visit the nursing home on Christmas Eve. ‘I want to be with you,’ she said, ‘but I haven’t had any time to crochet since Jennifer was born, so I don’t have any gifts to take them.’ ‘That’s all right,’ I said, ‘you can help me take mine.’ ‘No, I have a better idea,’ she said, ‘I’ll take my greatest treasure—my baby.’

“Great merriment appeared on the faces of the elderly people when we walked into the room with that beautiful baby. ‘Oh, she looks just like my daughter did when she was a baby,’ exclaimed one of the residents. ‘May I hold her?’ asked another. Jennifer was passed around like a doll.

“That baby brought more joy and laughter than all of my crocheted lap robes. Amy was happy too. ‘They really liked my baby, didn’t they?’ she asked as we left the building. ‘To make people happy, I guess you just give what you have.’”

How true. The human spirit is encouraged by the love and concern of another person. That’s a real gift any time of year.—Zig Ziglar

*

I’ve never written and only rarely tell of my first banker experience.

It happened in 1936. I was nine years old and the Depression was still in full force. We came from Alabama and settled in Lancaster County in a little row home, which my father managed to rent. It was getting near Christmas and my dear dad had nothing to spend for Christmas for his five children ages 1 to 9. In desperation, he went to the bank to try to persuade them that he was a safe risk for a small loan. He explained his predicament: no job, no collateral, and five small children with Christmas approaching.

As he should have known, the banker would have to decline his request, but he had an alternative offer for my dad to consider. He explained that if my dad could postpone celebrating Christmas a day or two, the children wouldn’t know it and everything would be reduced in the stores, and he would only need half the amount he was requesting. He said if this was agreeable, he would approve the loan for a smaller amount. Of course my dad gratefully accepted his offer.

I have experienced many Christmases, but this was the one I remember the best. Christmas Eve after we were all tucked in bed, the downstairs front door slammed open. There was a lot of noise and footsteps, and my father rushed down the stairs to see what was happening.

I followed a few minutes later, and saw him sitting on the bottom step with his head in his hands. I couldn’t understand why he was weeping. When I reached the bottom step, I could see no one in the hallway, but the hall was lined with boxes. There were boxes of food, clothing, and candy. There was a riding fire engine and a four-foot folding white paneled dollhouse. We never had a Christmas like that and we never knew who or why they did it. We didn’t belong to a church, and the friends we had were as poor as we were. My dad returned to the bank to repay the loan. The banker surprised my dad by telling him that there was no record of his loan.

I only understood that Christmas experience years later when Jesus became my Lord and Savior. How blessed some of us are to see God’s love working in and through His children. John 3:16 is where it begins, but those unknown servants were practicing 1 John 3:16. “Hereby perceive we the love of God, how He laid down his life for us: so we ought to lay down our lives for others.”–Charlie “T” Jones1

*

Nicholas was born of wealthy parents in A.D. 280 in the village of Patara. At the time the area was Greek, and is now on the southern coast of Turkey. He lost his parents early to an epidemic, but not before they had instilled in him the gift of faith. Then Nicholas went to Myra and lived a life full of sacrifice and love and the spirit of Jesus. Nicholas became so Christlike that when the town needed a bishop, he was elected. He was imprisoned for his faith by Emperor Diocletian and released later by Emperor Constantine.

There have been many stories of his generosity and compassion: how he begged for food for the poor, and how he would give girls money so that they would have a dowry to get a husband. The story most often repeated was about how he would don a disguise and go out and give gifts to poor children. He gave away everything he had, and he died around 345. His body was later moved to Bari, Italy, where his remains are to this day.

But the story of Nicholas has spread around the world. Within a century of his death he was celebrated as a saint. There are more churches in the world named after St. Nicholas than any other person in the history of the church.

People have also done strange things to him. Poet Clement Moore gave him a red nose and eight tiny reindeer. And Thomas Nast, the illustrator, made him big and fat and gave him a red suit trimmed by fur. And others have given him names, like Santa Claus. But what's important about St. Nicholas is that he had the mind of Christ. Because of his gentle, selfless love, he touched the whole world. And this same mind of Christ can be in us.—James Hewett

Published on Anchor December 2012. Read by Simon Gregg.


1 A Story Told to The Annual Pennsylvania Community Bankers Association.