“I wish I could have been there. There is nothing like experiencing the joy of Christmas firsthand.” Her smile lit the dark space between them. “I spend several hours each Christmas morning at the homeless shelter, and I’m touched by the generosity of Nativity. Not a single child goes without gifts, and the joy on each face is priceless.”
“This town has always gone above and beyond to reach the less fortunate. I’m sure you know Mr. Abbot, the shelter’s director. His heart knows no bounds for those who have fallen on hard times. If he could eliminate homelessness and hunger, he would.”
“Did you know the homeless rates have actually gone down here? The statistics are deceptive because Nativity receives an influx of vagrants from other towns. Word has gotten around about our shelter and the work done to get people off the streets, working, and into their own homes.”
He let the information sink in. “That’s amazing. I’ve seen the numbers, and they didn’t make sense to me, but now I know why.”
“It’s impressive while at the same time humbling. The work never ends, and there’s always another family coming in.” Her hands became animated the more she talked. “But when I see a mom cry because her child has a safe, warm place to sleep that night, I know that every minute I spend there is worth it.”
“I’m blessed to never have known true hunger, or wonder where’d I’d spend my next night. Times were lean for my parents when I was a child, but my brother and I never wanted for anything.”
“Tori and I wanted for nothing tangible, but we’d have done anything for our parent’s time and affection.” She quieted, then cleared her throat. “Spend a day at the shelter and one with my parents, and you’ll see firsthand that money doesn’t buy happiness.”
Unsure how to respond without sounding trite, Donovan pointed ahead. “Where do you want me to park?”
“Visitor parking. The ER lot is best, but I don’t want to take a spot from someone who might need it.”
“Where in the hospital do you leave the candy canes? Isn’t security tight?”
She shrugged. “Not really. They have security cameras, but I distribute them in a way as to not cause attention. Bathrooms, the chapel, waiting rooms. Last year I came up with the idea of sitting in a waiting room and pretending to read a magazine. Before I get up, I leave a candy cane inside the magazine.”
“That sounds time-consuming.”
“It can be, but imagine the delight of picking up a magazine and a candy cane wish falling out to greet you.” She lifted the bag, poising herself to exit. “People who gather in waiting rooms generally aren’t here for a celebration—save labor and delivery. They’re concerned for their loved ones, waiting to see them and praying they’ll get well. Coming here is the most time-intensive stop and poses the highest risk of being caught, but I can’t ignore the need.”
“I wouldn’t expect less.” He flashed a smile to convey he understood before leaving the car.
She was rummaging through the bag and looked up when he opened her door. “I have a specific set of messages that I leave here, but they fell to the bottom.” She showed him a bundle held together with a ribbon and untied it. “Found them.”
“What do those messages say?”
“I wrote out Matthew 11:28 and Psalms 103:2-4, which took very small handwriting to fit all of it on the slip of paper.” She laughed briefly then stepped out of the car. “I wanted to offer reminders that God gives us rest when we’re weary and that He covers us with His love and compassion.”
He held her elbow as she stepped over a patch of ice. “I love that you put so much thought into what you write.”
She shook her head. “It’s not thought. It’s prayer.”
“Even better.”
The next three hours flew by. Donovan didn’t realize the clock had passed midnight until he pulled into his driveway after making plans to help Zoe again tomorrow night.
Although tired, his mind ran in circles, but positively, not the stay–up-all night-and-worry mode. He hadn’t enjoyed an evening this much in months and his soul filled with deep satisfaction for the work done tonight. His respect for Zoe grew after witnessing the effort she put into the candy cane wishes. It wasn’t a happenstance endeavor, but a well thought-out, planned, and prayed-for mission.
To top off the great night, for the first time since his divorce, he felt the sparks of his Christmas spirit ignite on their own accord—not just for the sake of his son—and looked forward to the entirety of the season.
