The Big Candy Cane

It was three days before Christmas, and the whole family gathered at grandma’s house on the farm.

One of the first things, we kids did, was dive for the Christmas tree, to see if we had packages. One package, in particular, attracted my attention.

The previous Christmas, my grandpa asked me what I wanted. That was the first year, such big candy canes came out on the market. I was so fascinated with them. I wanted one, so badly but I guess I put my order in, too late, as it was only two days before the great event. There was no candy cane, that year.

This package was just the right size and shape, to be one of those huge candy canes.
I knew, for sure, grandpa had remembered. I knew, for sure, this was one of those huge candy canes. I also knew for sure, that my little brother would break it.

My little brother was only two, but he was a little terror. If he got the slightest idea that I was protecting something, he would plot and plan until he got his chance to destroy it.

I shoved the package as far out of sight, as possible, buried under other gifts and way to the back of the tree. Just as I was finished, I backed out from under the tree to discover my little brother was right there watching. I threatened his little life, if he touched that package.

With three days to go, how would I be able to keep an eye on him, day and night? I sure tried. Every time I turned around, I found him sliding in, closer to the tree and I had to run to protect my package.

With two days to go, I sneaked a feel and found it was still intact. I sighed with relief and ran off to play but I was nervous about letting him out of my sight. It seemed that at every opportunity, I found him sneaking in, closer to the tree. I knew what he was after and I intended to prevent it.

With one day to go, I again, sneaked into the living room and reached under the tree. It was still safe, still unbroken.

Then the great night arrived and the whole family gathered around. Grandpa appointed me, to hand out the gifts.

Now, I planned to make sure my brother was too busy, to pay attention to my package. I buried him, in his own gifts.

I finally worked my way back, to the secret hiding place, where my special package was. I reached under the tree, to grab my highly prized present, only to feel, through the paper, that it was broken to pieces. Somehow, some way, he had managed to sneak past me. He had succeeded in spoiling my special gift.

Don’t let people fool you into thinking a 4 year old cannot have deep feelings. The reason that package was so special, was because my grandpa had remembered me. Now it was spoiled.

I was so angry; I simply laid the package in my brother’s lap and said, “Here you go”. I turned my back on him, and opened a different gift.

My aunt and mother noticed that it had my name on it, not my brother’s and tried to get me to accept it. I cried and said, “He broke it. It was special, until he broke it. He wanted it, let him have it!” I was hurt to the core and even felt badly for grandpa. I am sure; he never understood what had really happened.

I was so wounded; I never ate one bite and never touched the package or any of its contents.

Many years later, I reflected on that event. I have repented of my reactions, a thousand times over, but never told my grandpa about it.

Grandpa is gone now and I am so sorry for what I did. Why did I not just accept the gift and thank my grandpa, instead of being such a brat? Grandpa gave from his heart. Did my little brother spoil that? No, he did not, but I sure did.

Remember that your loved ones will not always be there. The day can come, when you have no possible way to apologize. A gift comes from the heart. Accept it with gratitude.