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.