A Christmas memory by Colleen Boggess

Retired now, my lovely friend was an elementary school teacher. She is smart, fair, firm and has the kindest, most loving and giving heart.

A story she related to me.

It was Christmastime and as custom goes, before the holiday break, the children of her class presented her with gifts. Nice things their mothers had purchased, beautifully wrapped in colorful paper and fancy ribbon. But on this day, there was a student, a small boy, who was not able to provide his teacher with a gift. A gift for a special person of everyday influence, a mentor. Of course, he wanted to give her a gift, just like the other children had done.

After careful thought, he retrieved a small piece of wrapping paper from the trash can near her desk and a small piece of red yarn. Now the gift. What?

He chose his favorite crayon which was gently used. A brown crayon. He carefully wrapped his gift in the small piece of wrapping paper and tied a bow with red yarn as best as he could. He then quietly presented his gift to his teacher.

Joy was expressed as she opened her gift. A gift given to her in a genuine, honest and pure gesture of a small child.

Many years later I met this teacher. Christmastime arrived I had the opportunity to admire her Christmas tree. It was adorned in everything natural. She had cotton, okra, dried oranges, magnolia leaves, turkey feathers and beautiful hand-crocheted doilies. It was stunning.

She proudly pointed out to me a gift given to her a long time ago. It was the brown crayon hanging by the same small piece of red yarn. This is one of her favorite stories.

The brown crayon hangs in a place of prominence near the top of her tree for all to see. She has put this gift on her Christmas tree, fondly, every year since she received it. Old gifts gone and forgotten. She gets it.

The story of the brown crayon is a symbolic reminder that a true, heartfelt and humble act of kindness need not be a grand gesture.

Time has passed and I have had the privilege to see Tip’s brown crayon and revisit its story for several years. I love the way her eyes light up when she tells it. I love the way I feel when I hear it and share it with family and friends. This story means a lot to me personally because I am reminded that you don’t need a loud voice to make a difference, sometimes it’s a whisper.

So, this Christmas look for the small whisper of kindness that you would otherwise overlook. Maybe your own small act of kindness could create a fond memory for someone and maybe even change their life.

Merry Christmas!