This story first appeared on "heartwarmers.com." It appears here with the author’s permission. Candy Chand is the author of Under God's Wings. You can review her book at Amazon.com.
Maybe, it was the season, the bright colored lights, the Christmas music on the radio. Perhaps, it was the spirit of giving in the air. Surely, that's what the holiday was all about. Maybe, it was God, asking me to do the right thing.
I wasn't sure. However, in December of 1993, just five days before Christmas, He put my faith to the test.
A stranger was standing in front of my hospital desk. He was surrounded by three, young, crying children. As he waited in the medical clinic to have his youngest child treated for a cold, we began to talk.
His wife, the children's mother, had also been admitted to the hospital. She was ill, and to make matters worse, had been the victim of a horrible physical attack the month before.
The father was trying his best to keep his family together, take care of the young children, and hold down a low paying job. It was an enormous struggle; that was clear. While we spoke, I had contrasting visions of my own children, sitting at home with their father with the fireplace roaring, hot cocoa mugs held by tiny hands, with marshmallows floating on top, and a beautiful Christmas tree illuminated with ornaments glowing nearby. Now, this was the way Christmas was supposed to be.
This family was struggling, at best, to maintain some sort of dignity -- some sort of reflection of the season, if only for the moment, they could hold it together. Tears began to well up in my eyes.
I quietly excused myself to the back room and called my husband, Patrick. I told him who was standing in the waiting room. I mentioned the children's faces, and a Christmas about to be lost. I asked him if our budget could spare a check, a few hundred dollars. Was it the right thing to do? Patrick, God love him, replied without hesitation, "Of course. If we've got it, write the check. We'll be fine."
Then, I pulled the man aside. I'm ashamed to admit, but I began to drill him. "If I give you this money for your children's Christmas, you won't spend it on drugs, will you?"
He assured me he would not. He hadn't used drugs since he was a teen. He would buy something nice for the kids. He promised.
With that, I handed him the check, but only on one more condition -- he couldn't tell anyone what I'd done. After all, I didn't want a busload of people appearing at my desk asking me for money. He assured me he'd never tell a soul. And then, they were gone -- disappearing into the cold, night air, into what I hoped would be a brighter future.
Now and then, I wondered if had I done the right thing. Oh, it wasn't so much the money. That could be replaced. But was I just a fool, manipulated by another, as he took my gift and used it for wrong purposes?
Several years later, while working in the same clinic, a man sat in the lobby with his children. He walked up and handed me a note. My eyes flashed across the word, "Money." At first, I must admit, I thought I was about to be robbed. But as I read further, tears filled my eyes.
"Are you the lady who gave me the money many Christmases ago, and who asked me not to tell anyone?" It was him! I had not recognized the family at all.
"Yes," I quietly told him. His note intended to keep his promise. He would not speak out loud of the gift, even after all those years. He continued to keep the secret. He was good to his word. We went to a quiet corner and began to talk.
"Why did you do it?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," I said, "I just felt like it." That, of course, was a lie. I believed God wanted him to have the money, yet was too embarrassed to say so. I thought the truth sounded a bit over the top.
He told me life was much better for them now. Then, he said something I'll never forget. He wanted to return the money. He could write a check immediately.
Flabbergasted, and a little embarrassed that my judgment of him had been so wrong, I told him, "No." He could give it to another family -- anyone he felt needed help. The money was never a loan, just a gift. But, it meant so much that he'd offered. It spoke so highly of his integrity.
They left that day with a happier perk in their step. I watched them go with a different song in my heart. God had been right all along. They were to be trusted, my doubts had been wrong. It really had been the right thing to do.
So my trusted friend -- wherever you are today -- if you should happen to read this story, I apologize.
I apologize for answering your question falsely. I didn't give because "I felt like it." I gave to you because God is wise, and He wanted you to have it.
God never doubted you. I'm sorry I did.