I gave to the homeless
One fine, wintry day, everyone in town was building a snowman, putting up Christmas lights, all getting into the Christmas spirit. Well, mostly everyone ... .
Every year during the Christmas time, a poor, homeless man waits outside, of what seems like every toy store, with a can labeled, donation. You can tell, just by looking at him, he doesn’t get much. His scraggly hair, his beard that goes down to his waist, and even shoes made of cardboard, probably from his box house.
My Mom always tells me to stay away from him, because he might kidnap me and hold a ransom. But I didn’t listen to her, I knew there was good inside of everyone.
It’s like the saying, goes “Beauty is only skin deep.” Even though he might look like a pile of rags, I wish ... I wish I could just give him some money, some food, ... a friend.
It seems as if no one every stopped to think how he feels. I see someone walk out of the store and the man asks, “Spare change?” But the people just look at him in disgust and walk away. Oh, how that bugs me, all he’s asking is just a little bit of money. Some might say, “Oh, 62 cents is not enough, so why even give it up.” But every cent counts.
Awh, Christmas eve! One of my favorite days. We were just at the store doing some last minute shopping. I got a big blanket, an over-sized pajama shirt and some elastic slippers that fit all sizes, so that it doesn’t matter if my feet grow. I was so anxious to try out all my new stuff and then, as we were walking out the door, I saw the man with the donation can and stopped.
“What are you doing Scott, it’s time to go!” mom yelled. So I started walking, not toward the car, but toward the homeless man.
I went up to him and said, “Merry Christmas,” and gave the man the bag with my stuff.
The man opened his mouth and in a voice that sounded as jolly and cheerful as he could, he said, “God bless you!”