Priceless

I wouldn’t say I’m “cheap”; maybe “practical” is more of an appropriate word. Whatever it is, my DNA got a double dose of it. If I can get by with spending less, I will—especially when it comes to indulging my kids.

I’m trying very hard not to raise little entitled monsters, and sometimes that means I’m a little more tight-fisted than I ought to be when it comes to paying for things like birthday presents, family outings, new clothes, comfortable mattresses, functioning band instruments, and so on.

So when the book fair rolled into Emmett and Hyrum’s elementary school a couple weeks ago, I thought I was being pretty darn generous when I told them I would give them each ten whole dollars to spend. I don’t know if you’ve been to a school book fair lately, but ten dollars really won’t get you very much. Maybe one book—or two if one of them is on clearance. Nevertheless, my boys were pretty excited about their windfall.

I happened to be volunteering at the book fair the day that both my boys came in to look at books. Their eyes lit up when they saw so many shiny and new books lined up in one place. In addition, there were cheap (meaning expensive) toys set out on tables near the entrance—things like invisible ink pens and erasers in the shape of ice cream cones. My boys were in heaven.

They looked around for several minutes, weaving in and out of the other parents and kids who were perusing the shelves. As I waited for them at my post behind the cash register, one mom in particular caught my attention. She was talking a little loudly as she pointed out books to her daughter, and she was wearing a uniform from a local restaurant, clearly either just ending or about to begin her shift.

My boys finally made their way to me at the cash register, and my well-trained book-fair eye told me that the number of books they had was well over their ten-dollar-each limit.

“Do you have enough money for these, boys?” I asked skeptically as I started to ring up their purchases.

“I brought some of my own money from home,” Emmett explained. “I’m going to help Hyrum pay for his books.”

My heart melted. “You’re a good big brother,” I said.

And then suddenly, a 20 dollar bill was slid across the counter towards my sons. I looked up to see the uniformed mom from earlier, who was paying for her purchases at the cash register next to us.

“I want you boys to have this,” she said, smiling. “Maybe you’ll have a little money left over to buy something else at the fair.”

My boys looked from me to the woman, wide-eyed. An adult fast and loose with cash was something they weren’t accustomed to.

I felt a little sheepish. Did she realize that I was their mother, who could very easily reach into my purse and cover the cost of their books if only I wasn’t so stingy? I thought about saving her her 20 dollars, telling her, “That’s so generous, but you don’t have to do that!”

But she looked so happy to offer her gift, and my boys were clearly thrilled with the prospect of getting an extra 20 dollars from a benevolent stranger. I decided to let her generosity win.

“That’s so nice of you!” I exclaimed, picking up the 20 dollar bill from the counter. “Boys, tell her thank you!”

Emmett and Hyrum stammered out bewildered thank you’s, in utter disbelief at their good fortune.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, beaming. “I did really well with tips at work this week!” She and her daughter finished making their purchases and headed out the door.

I was humbled and taught a lesson about real generosity by this woman who gave happily from her hard-earned money, just to bring joy to two little boys she didn’t even know. 

Her act of kindness inspired me to immediately look around for a way to pay it forward. I spotted a book that I knew the music teacher was hoping to add to his classroom, and I purchased it for him. It was something I had thought of doing earlier but had talked myself out of it, thinking that the price tag was a little exorbitant for just one book.

Who knew that that day at the book fair I would be taught by a complete stranger that there are some things on which you just can’t put a price.

Originally published in the Spokesman-Review 4/3/22

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