A Gift Of Love

“Can I see my baby?”
the happy new mother
asked.
When the bundle was
nestled in her arms and
she moved the fold of
cloth to look upon his
tiny face, she gasped.
The doctor turned
quickly and looked out
the tall hospital
window. The baby had
been born without ears.
Time proved that the
baby’s hearing was
perfect. It was only his
appearance that was
marred. When he rushed
home from school one
day and flung himself
into his mother’s arms,
she sighed, knowing
that his life was to be a
succession of
heartbreaks. He blurted
out the tragedy. “A boy,
a big boy … called me a
freak.”
He grew up, handsome
for his misfortune. A
favorite with his fellow
students, he might
have been class
president, but for that.
He developed a gift, a
talent for literature and
music. “But you might
mingle with other young
people,” his mother
reproved him, but felt a
kindness in her heart.
The boy’s father had a
session with the family
physician. Could nothing
be done? “I believe I
could graft on a pair of
outer ears, if they could
be procured,” the doctor
decided.
Whereupon the search
began for a person who
would make such a
sacrifice for a young
man. Two years went
by. Then, “You are going
to the hospital, Son.
Mother and I have
someone who will
donate the ears you
need. But it’s a secret,”
said the father. The
operation was a brilliant
success, and a new
person emerged. His
talents blossomed into
genius, and school and
college became a series
of triumphs.
Later he married and
entered the diplomatic
service. “But I must
know!” He urged his
father, “Who gave so
much for me? I could
never do enough for
him.” “I do not believe
you could,” said the
father, “but the
agreement was that
you are not to know …
not yet.” The years
kept their profound
secret, but the day did
come … one of the
darkest days that a son
must endure. He stood
with his father over his
mother’s casket.
Slowly, tenderly, the
father stretched forth
a hand and raised the
thick, reddish-brown
hair to reveal that the
mother had no outer
ears. “Mother said she
was glad she never let
her hair be cut,” he
whispered gently, “and
nobody ever thought
Mother less beautiful,
did they?”
Real beauty lies not in
the physical
appearance, but in the
heart. Real treasure lies
not in what that can be
seen, but what that
cannot be seen. Real
love lies not in what is
done and known, but in
what that is done but
not known.