“I don’t want to have Christmas!” my 10-year-old son Jacob yelled. He threw a box of decorations on the ground and ran out of the room, followed by his twin brother, Jarom. I’d just told them that their dad wouldn’t be with them on Christmas Day, the first since our divorce. Another unhappy surprise.
I cleaned up the mess. As I bent down to sweep the last broken pieces, I couldn’t help but notice the meager presents under the tree. There was no money for the bikes they’d both asked for.
The boys didn’t need piles of toys, but they’d lost so much this year. Couldn’t they get just one happy surprise this Christmas?
The boys kept to themselves the rest of the day until a loud knock came at the door. Jarom peeked through the peephole. “Someone is here on a bike,” he announced.
We opened the door and found not just one but two brand-new bikes. A note was taped to one of the handlebars: “Jacob and Jarom are having it hard right now. Let them know they’re loved. We’re praying for you.”
Years later I found out that the bikes were presents from a neighbor family. Christmas is full of happy surprises, isn’t it?
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