Mason’s Sacrifice
The manner of giving is worth more than the gift.
It was Christmas morning the year that my only son, Mason, was thirteen years old. I had been raising him alone for ten years now. My husband had been diagnosed with cancer when Mason was two, and he passed away when Mason was only three. The years had been tough, but my son and I had a very special bond. We were best friends, and my son was the most thoughtful and caring person I knew.
At thirteen, Mason got a weekly allowance of five dollars for keeping his room clean and doing odd chores around the house. Each payday, Mason would jump on his bike and ride to the nearby drug store to buy some candy or the latest magazine. He just couldn’t seem to save his money, and so by the time Christmas rolled around, he had nothing to spend on gifts for others. I had never gotten a gift from him that was not homemade, so this year I expected nothing different.
After Mason finished opening all his gifts, he thanked me, kissed me and then slid off into his room. I wondered why he didn’t seem to want to spend any time playing with the new stuff he had gotten. Caught in my thoughts, I was startled by Mason, who was now standing in front of me holding a nicely wrapped gift. I assumed that it was a project he had made at school, and I was looking forward to seeing what he had created this time. I cherished all of his gifts, just as I cherished him.
Inside the box was a brand-new pair of expensive black leather gloves, price tag still attached. The shock on my face was very apparent. As tear welled in my eyes, I asked him where he had gotten them. “At the store, Mom, where else?” he simply said.
I looked confused, as I knew that he didn’t have that much money. I asked if someone had helped him purchase them, and he shook his head, held it high and said he had bought them all by himself.
After figuring out just the right questions to ask, I got him to reveal to me how he was able to buy the beautiful gloves. He had sold his brand-new bike to a friend at school, the one he had just gotten for his birthday two months earlier.
I cried just thinking about his sacrifice. Through my tears I told him that this was the most thoughtful thing he’s ever done for me, but that I wanted to get his bike back for him.
He simply said, “No, Mom, please don’t. Because Dad isn’t here anymore, you never get a nice gift at Christmas, and you never buy yourself nice things. I wanted to get this for you. My old bike is still perfectly fine, really. Please, Mom, keep the gloves and know I love you every time you wear them.”
We hung out for hours that morning, and I never removed the gloves. From that day on, I put them on so often that, eventually, I wore holes in them. But I still have them, tucked in a drawer in my closet. Once in a while, I come across them and am reminded of Mason’s sacrifice. I immediately become filled with the gift of love that they represented that Christmas morning – the kind of gift that can never wear out.
การเสียสละของ Masonของให้มีมูลค่ามากกว่าของขวัญมันเป็นเช้าวันคริสต์มาสปีที่ลูกชายของฉันเท่านั้น Mason มีสิบสามลักษณะปี ฉันได้รับเลี้ยงเขาคนเดียวสิบปี สามีมีการวินิจฉัยโรคมะเร็ง Mason สอง และเขาผ่านไปเมื่อ Mason เพียงสาม ปีได้ยาก แต่ลูกและผมมีพันธะพิเศษมาก เรามีเพื่อนที่ดีที่สุด และฉันเป็นคนเด่น และเสน่ห์มากที่สุดที่ฉันรู้ที่ thirteen, Mason ได้เบี้ยเลี้ยงรายสัปดาห์ห้าดอลลาร์สำหรับรักษาความสะอาดห้องพัก และทำงานแปลกรอบบ้าน แต่ละ payday, Mason จะกระโดดบนจักรยานของเขา และขี่ไปเก็บยาในบริเวณใกล้เคียงจะซื้อขนมบางหรือนิตยสารล่าสุด เขาไม่สามารถดูการบันทึกการเงินของเขา และเพื่อการ สะสมคริสต์มาสสถาน เขามีอะไรที่ต้องใช้ของขวัญสำหรับคนอื่น ฉันไม่เคยได้เดินทางเป็นของขวัญจากเขาที่ไม่ใช่โฮมเมด ดังนั้นปีนี้ผมคาดว่าไม่มีอะไรแตกต่างกันหลังจาก Mason เสร็จเปิดของขวัญทั้งหมดของเขา เขาขอบคุณฉัน รั้งฉัน แล้วฝ่อปิดเข้าไปในห้องของเขา สงสัยว่า ทำไมเขาไม่ดูเหมือนจะต้องการใช้ตลอดเวลาที่เล่นกับสิ่งใหม่ที่เขาได้รับ ติดในความคิดของฉัน ฉันถูก startled โดย Mason ที่ตอนนี้ยืนอยู่หน้าฉันถือของขวัญอย่างดีตัด ผมถือว่ามันเป็นโครงการที่เขาได้ทำในโรงเรียน และฉันถูกมองไปข้างหน้าเห็นว่าเขาได้สร้างขณะนี้ ฉันหวงแหนของของขวัญของเขา เหมือนหวงแหนเขาInside the box was a brand-new pair of expensive black leather gloves, price tag still attached. The shock on my face was very apparent. As tear welled in my eyes, I asked him where he had gotten them. “At the store, Mom, where else?” he simply said.I looked confused, as I knew that he didn’t have that much money. I asked if someone had helped him purchase them, and he shook his head, held it high and said he had bought them all by himself.After figuring out just the right questions to ask, I got him to reveal to me how he was able to buy the beautiful gloves. He had sold his brand-new bike to a friend at school, the one he had just gotten for his birthday two months earlier.I cried just thinking about his sacrifice. Through my tears I told him that this was the most thoughtful thing he’s ever done for me, but that I wanted to get his bike back for him.He simply said, “No, Mom, please don’t. Because Dad isn’t here anymore, you never get a nice gift at Christmas, and you never buy yourself nice things. I wanted to get this for you. My old bike is still perfectly fine, really. Please, Mom, keep the gloves and know I love you every time you wear them.”We hung out for hours that morning, and I never removed the gloves. From that day on, I put them on so often that, eventually, I wore holes in them. But I still have them, tucked in a drawer in my closet. Once in a while, I come across them and am reminded of Mason’s sacrifice. I immediately become filled with the gift of love that they represented that Christmas morning – the kind of gift that can never wear out.
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