It was nearing Christmas. At the adoption agency, a 13‑month‑old boy named Freddy had been waiting for months, but even at Christmas he had no home to return to. Freddy was bright, with a charming smile, already walking and mimicking words. Yet no one wanted him. Freddy had been born without arms. The agency searched everywhere for adoptive parents, but everyone wanted only healthy children without disabilities.

One day, a truck‑driver couple, married for 18 years but childless, submitted papers requesting a child. They had long wished to adopt, but their limited finances had led to repeated rejections. When the caseworker visited the Pearsons’ home, an empty swing hung from a tree in the yard, swaying in the wind. During the interview, the couple declared confidently: “Though we have little money, we have stored up enough love to give any child who comes to us.”

The caseworker hinted that a 13‑month‑old boy was waiting for parents. Their eyes lit up. “We can raise him well. I’ll make him a baseball player—I was one in school!” The wife chimed in: “Yes, we’ll take him swimming, play baseball in the park… we’ll do everything together.”

The caseworker handed them Freddy’s photo and carefully explained: “Freddy was born without arms.” The couple gazed silently at the picture. The husband asked, his voice trembling with excitement: “What do you think, dear?” She smiled brightly: “…Soccer! We can teach him soccer, can’t we?” He nodded: “Exactly. Is sports really so important? He can head the ball, kick with his feet… and he can study at university too. Arms aren’t everything in life! We’ll start saving now for his education.”

The next day was Christmas Eve, when joy descends upon the world. The Pearsons waited in the adoption office, filled with nervous happiness, worried that Freddy might reject them or cry.

Soon the door opened. “Merry Christmas!” said the caseworker, smiling broadly as he brought Freddy in. The Pearsons, tense and tearful, knelt awkwardly, gazing at the child. Bundled in a thick winter coat, Freddy hesitated, pressing his face against the caseworker’s leg in fear. The Pearsons smiled gently, arms wide: “Freddy! Come, come to Mommy and Daddy.” Freddy looked back and forth between them, frozen. Then the caseworker nudged him: “Freddy, go to your parents. It’s Christmas—you must go home now.”

“…Christmas?” Freddy paused, then waddled slowly toward their open arms, breaking into a run. The Pearsons, overwhelmed with tears, embraced him tightly, as if to swallow him whole, the three melting together in joy and gratitude.

From the window, as snow fell thickly, the caseworker watched the family depart, feeling as though he were celebrating Christmas for the very first time. (Excerpted from Chicken Soup for the Soul #4)

Dwight L. Moody once said: “There may be counterfeit love, counterfeit hope, counterfeit faith—but there is no counterfeit humility.” He praised the humility of Jesus, born in a manger. This year again, the Lord’s gift—the beautiful Christmas gift—comes to us, leaving His heavenly throne to bear our sorrows. Because of this gift, even in despair we are invited into dazzling moments of hope and tomorrow’s promise. May this Christmas gift be ours again this year.

© Wan-Hee Yoon (Letter from the Parsonage, 41st, Korean Christian Today LA, 1991)