Every time I see Dennis the Menace beating on his drum as he goes marching past Mr. Wilson, I am reminded of a Christmas gift I received as a little boy. I, too, was given my very own drum. I was overjoyed to lead my own parade with my brothers following the percussion as I set the beat. I know my parents were thrilled by our music as they continually encouraged us share it in the other rooms of the house as well. It was not long after I received my little red drum that I realized I could get a bigger boom if I used a dart gun and shot darts at it. That was a mistake. One dart went right into my drum and my career as the little drummer boy was ended. Another Christmas present that I received several years later was a crystal radio set for me to assemble. I was so excited. Dad and Mom knew that I loved taking apart old appliances and machines to see how they worked and I am sure that they thought that this would be the ideal gift to help me learn to assemble something rather than disassemble. I started on this new project right after all the gifts were open. I read the directions carefully. It stated that I must remove a certain amount of insulation from a coil of copper wire. It wasn’t long before I realized in my enthusiasm I made a mistake. I had removed just a trifle more insulation than I was suppose to. I had made a mistake. I waited many years to finally have that roll of wire rewound by my Uncle Warren, before I heard sound waves come out of my little radio. When I was a child, we didn’t receive numerous presents and my folks were unable to just buy me another one when something broke.

I treasure gifts that are given to me by my loved ones. When a sacrifice is involved, they are just that much more special. I felt bad that I broke gifts from my Mom and Dad. But I want to tell you about a special gift that they introduced me to when I was very young.

I can remember their teaching us biblical truths and living them out for me to see. They took us to Sunday School and had family devotions with us. They told me the special story of God’s gift to us in the form of His Son. When I was eight years old, I realized that I not only wanted that gift but I needed that gift to make my life whole.

The night was March 17, 1967. Mom was washing dishes and I crawled into the corner between the sink and the refrigerator and tearfully said that I had some doubts in my life and that I would like Jesus to be my Savior. She went and got Dad and we went into the back bedroom.(which is the very room I am writing this from today). They told me that I could have the gift of Jesus in my heart, because that is why He came to this earth that very first Christmas. That is why He died on the cross and rose from the grave. This gift would give me life. Forever. I had never had a gift like that before and truthfully have never had another one since. And you know what? This one doesn’t break, no matter what stunt I pull or what mistake I make. I also have the privilege of sharing that gift with others. How about it?