I learned about the priceless gift of love
from a
little six year old boy in tatted clothes. His
mother
worked at the local diner as a waitress for
ten to
twelve hours a day to make a living for her
two
children. Her husband had left the family
destitute
so she worked hard for their meager
existence but
every Sunday morning she took her small
family
to church. They didn’t have any nice
clothing
to wear, and they lived in a dilapidated
shack
down the street from my house.
I had a
lovely home and a rose garden which was
my pride and
joy. Everyone in our small town
drove by and stopped
to look at the beautiful roses
I grew. I had made
that rose garden almost my
entire life since my
husband, Frank’s death two
years ago. Mr. Priddy, the
local florist, always told
me he would give me top
dollar if I’d sell him my
roses. I always refused him
saying I would never
sell my roses for any
price.
One morning in early summer I heard a
small
knock at my door. When I opened it I
was
horrified to see that little boy standing there
with a
bunch of my roses. Before I could express
my
dismay, he spoke to me, handing me a dollar
bill,
“Miss Lady, I would like to buy these roses for
my
mother’s birthday. She drives by here every
day
and always says she wish she could have a
rose
garden like yours. She always says how
beautiful
she thinks your roses are. This is my
whole
allowance for the week but if you need more
I’ll
bring you my allowance every week until I
have
paid you enough."
I just stood there
holding back my tears as I
accepted his dollar. I
answered him saying “Oh,
this dollar is just what
that bunch of roses are
worth to me!”
He then
told me what great love he had for his
mother. He
spoke of how grateful he and his older
sister were
for how hard she had worked, so they
wouldn’t have to
go live with their grandmother.
He told me that she
can’t ever buy anything
beautiful for herself because
they needed all the
money she made just to
live.
I bid him a goodbye and as I closed the
door I
could no longer hold back my tears. I knew
that
the price of my beautiful roses was love. This
little
boy had taught me that nothing in this world
is
more priceless than love.
Sunday morning
after church the mother
approached me saying how
sorry she was that her
son had been bothering me.
Then she thanked me
for letting him have the roses.
She told me they
were the best birthday present she
had ever
received. I answered her saying the boy was
no
bother to me and he is welcome to pick
my
roses at anytime if he wished .
Copyright M. Doris Fuller
2003
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