"Can I see my bundle of joy?" the happy new mother asked, ready to pour love and affection on her new child.  When the baby 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. 

Over time, it became clear that the baby's hearing was just fine. It was only his appearance that was marred.   One day he rushed home from school and flung himself into his mother's arms. She sighed deeply, recognizing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks. He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy...called me a freak." Surely this boy would never find peace or happiness.

He developed a gift for literature and music, his solace in a hostile world.  "But you might mingle with other young people," has mother told him, although she understood why he focused on solitary pursuits.

The boy's father met 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 advised.  That's when the search began? Who would make such a sacrifice for a young man.  Two years went by. Two years of searching. Two years of frustration.   Then his father told him, "You are going to the hospital, son.  Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need.  But it's a secret" 

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 ever pass through a son.  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.  True love lies not in what is done and known, but in what that is done but not known.