Late last week, I was rushing around trying to get some last minute shopping
done. I was stressed out and not thinking very fondly of the Christmas season
right then. It was dark, cold, and wet in the parking lot as I was loading my
car up with gifts that I felt obligated to buy. I noticed that I was missing a
receipt that I might need later. So mumbling under my breath, I retraced my
steps to the shopping centre entrance.

As I was searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a quiet
sobbing. The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy of about 12 years old.
He was short and thin. He had no coat. He was just wearing a ragged flannel
shirt to protect him from the cold nights chill.

Oddly enough, he was holding a hundred pound note in his hand. Thinking that he
had gotten lost from his parents, I asked him what was wrong. He told me his sad
story. He said that he came from a large family. He had three brothers and four
sisters. His father had died when he was nine years old. His mother was poorly
educated and worked two full time jobs. She made very little to support her
large family.

Nevertheless, she had managed to skimp and save two hundred pounds to buy her
children Christmas presents. The young boy had been dropped off, by his mother,
on the way to her second job. He was to use the money to buy presents for all
his siblings and save just enough to take the bus home.

He had not even entered the mall, when an older boy grabbed one of the hundred
pound notes and disappeared into the night.

Why didnt you scream for help? I asked.

The boy said, I did.

And nobody came to help you? I wondered.

The boy stared at the sidewalk and sadly shook his head.

How loud did you scream? I inquired.

The soft-spoken boy looked up and meekly whispered, Help me!

I realized that absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy cry for help.

So I grabbed his other hundred and ran to my car.