by Gigi Blume
When we arrived at Hope Evangelical Christian Church, even though it wasn’t any further than my usual commute in Manhattan, I was frozen to the bone from the walk. Those things inside my Converse All Stars? They weren’t feet anymore. They were the most unpleasant popsicles in the universe.
Georgia, who’d planned her wardrobe better than me, was rosy-cheeked and fresh. She could have been on one of those York Peppermint Patty commercials. The cloud from her mouth when she breathed seemed to turn to crystal before floating away to frost nearby windowpanes. Or evergreen trees. Or perhaps turn into gleaming castles of ice with silvery spires jutting heavenward.
Clearly, I put too much thought into Georgia’s minty breath.
I carried Reeses in his bag so his little paws wouldn’t freeze. I’d given him my scarf. He was living the good life.
The church was an old converted barn, renovated to accommodate a fairly large congregation. It was enormous. There were different doors off the main sanctuary, most likely leading to meeting rooms, childcare, or offices. As we entered, a group of teens rushed past us, laden with robes of various colors, plaster wings, and glittery headpieces. A woman with a clipboard worked in the far corner wrangling small children and several others mulled around chatting or getting ready for the performance.
“I guess we’re a little early,” said Georgia, looking around.
“It would seem so. I’m just waiting for my feet to thaw out.”
She tsked at me. “You don’t own a pair of boots, do you?”
I admitted that I did not. I liked my converse.
A door swung open and a pretty woman in her forties rushed through wearing an apron. She had an air of authority about her—the way she carried herself maybe, or perhaps how heads turned as she entered the room.
“Has anyone seen Tom and Denise?” she called out.
Someone shouted back they had the flu. Or was it they had to glue? Could have been either. There was too much activity going on to hear well.
The woman in the apron slumped a little, pressing her temple before clapping eyes on us. She came over.
“Oh thank goodness. Are you two here to serve?”
She gave us each a hug. “I’ve never seen a turn out like this in all the years we’ve been running the soup kitchen. I think it’s because word got out someone donated all that turkey.”
Georgia instinctively clutched her coat in the area of her stomach. “Did you say turkey?”
“Isn’t that wonderful? We are blessed beyond measure. But we’re swamped in there. You...did come to volunteer, right?”
“Yes,” Georgia blurted. “Absolutely. That’s why we’re here.”
The woman pressed her heart and smiled sweetly. Then, as she ushered us to the kitchen, she introduced herself. “I’m Teresa, by the way. I’ll get you set up.”
She found a couple of aprons and handed them over. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”
Georgia introduced us, including Reeses, and said we were just passing through. She didn’t get into the crazy details. Teresa would hardly believe it anyway.
Before I knew what was happening, they were chatting like besties, giggling about how Georgia drowned in the large apron. How cute her earrings were. Exchanging make-up hacks.
I excused myself to set Reeses up with a bowl of water. I don’t think the ladies noticed my absence. A pot-bellied man called me over and tossed a hairnet at me.
“You’ll be on mashed potatoes.”
He pointed a carving knife toward the buffet and hunched back over the turkey. I could tell he was serious about slicing. They don’t give that job to just anybody.
I took my spot behind the serving line flanked by two elderly women. A box of latex gloves was passed along which both the ladies refused to use.
“I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty,” one of them said as she tossed the box to the next guy. I was pretty sure the gloves weren’t for her benefit but who was I to say?
I got to work dolloping spoonfuls of mashed potatoes while the granny next to me smothered them in gravy with a drippy splat. After a few minutes we’d developed a well-timed system.
Scoop, splat. Scoop, splat.
At one point we were in rhythm with the Christmas music. The lady on the other side of me was in her own world, singing and bopping out while on green bean duty.
Hordes of people came through the line. Teresa wasn’t kidding. But the community there for the free holiday dinner was different from the usual crowd I’d seen go into New York soup kitchens. These were families, farmers, working folk. And they were ever grateful.
I caught a glimpse of Georgia passing out dinner rolls with a generous portion of smiles. She was resplendent. A couple of teen boys held up the line because they didn’t want to part from her.
Move it along, boys.
Scoop, splat. Scoop, splat.
In the end we went through eight trays of spuds. I heard somebody estimate about two hundred people came through. Even so, there was plenty left over for the volunteers. Who knows where all that food came from? It was like the loaves and fishes.
Later, when Georgia pushed her plate away and tugged to stretch her waistband I nudged her with my shoulder and gave her an I told you so look.
“I think we can safely say this qualifies as a Christmas miracle.”
She just laughed.
Teresa joined us soon after with a plate of cookies to share apologizing because the good ones were the first to go. We couldn’t eat another bite anyway. She thanked us for the seventy-ninth time.
“Believe me, the pleasure was all ours,” I assured her.
She clasped her hands over ours. “Are you staying for the Living Nativity?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Georgia said, grinning adorably. “I hear A.J. hits it out of the park with his shepherd boy performance.”
Teresa’s eyebrows shot up. “You know A.J. Tucker?”
“Not exactly.” Georgia explained how we’d met the grandmother in town and that’s what brought us here.
“And the commercial,” I added. “Don’t forget about that.”
Georgia cast her eyes to the ceiling. She still wasn’t convinced the signal could have gotten that far.
“The commercial was my husband’s idea,” said Teresa.
I grinned at Georgia, mouthing the words Christmas miracle.
It was so satisfying.
“Oh, speaking of my husband, he’s waving me over. Gotta go.” Teresa gave Georgia a tight squeeze. “Hope you enjoy the walk-through. See you at the finish.”
Georgia crinkled her nose as Teresa danced away. “Walk-through?”
15
Wyatt
It was fun to tease Georgia about the Christmas miracle thing. But the real miracle was her. How she stumbled into my life and suddenly the world was beautiful again. Okay, Reeses had something to do with the stumbling part but I considered it a miracle just the same.
We lived in a city of millions. Perfect strangers with completely different lives. I could have passed her on 14th street and never had a reason to talk to her. Yet here we were in Bethlehem, Kansas. Falling in love.
Whoa there, Wyatt.
What did that dear old granny put in the gravy?
I knew I was falling in something. The woozy feeling in my stomach told me as much. But love? How would I know? I had nothing to compare it with.
We entered the sanctuary as people were taking their seats. A group of about a dozen ladies came in through the front door. They were all smiles, giggling amongst themselves. But there was something about them I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“I wonder who they are,” said Georgia, following my line of sight. “They’re all wearing the same thing. Like a uniform.”
Ah, that’s what it was. Each of them wore a long, beige skirt and the same white collars peeked out from under their winter coats. They had some sort of metal brooch in the shape of a heart pinned to cream cardigans, from what I could se
e when a coat or two was unzipped. And each and every one of them had short hairstyles. But the one thing that particularly stood out was the joy on their faces. Like they were all glowy from the inside out.
“Maybe they work at See’s Candy,” I suggested. “They’re so happy.”
Georgia chuckled. “I’d be happy, too, if I worked in a candy store.”
We moved to look for our seats when A.J.’s grandma seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
“I’m so happy you decided to come.” Hugs and wet kisses on the cheek were part of the greeting package with this woman. We soon found out what Teresa meant by walk-through. A.J.’s grandma explained the whole thing. Although the opening scene was to take place inside the main sanctuary, the rest of the reenactment was a walking tour outside guided by a little boy with a snare drum.
“Don’t worry.” said she. “Pastor Kevin put up space heaters along the route. And the actors have plenty of layers.”
By actors she meant townsfolk and their children. It was a tradition at this church and apparently the congregants looked forward to this night all year long. They were kinda obsessed with it according to A.J.’s grandma.
The old woman leaned in to whisper, “I heard Suzy McCormick got pregnant again on purpose just so her kid could play Baby Jesus this year. She’s no Virgin Mary, I’ll tell you that much.”
T.M.I. lady.
We sat down right before the lights dimmed. Our new friend dropped off a plate of fudge at a refreshments table and swiftly returned to join us. She certainly loved to talk, chatting in Georgia’s ear all throughout Pastor Kevin’s intro speech. I think she was thrilled to have fresh ears who hadn’t heard all her stories before. Georgia was bright enough to get her name. Lois. She looked like a Lois.
At one point she asked how we came to pass by Bethlehem of all places. Georgia told her how we hitched a ride with the man with the black truck, highlighting the detail about the snake on the hood.
“Oh that would be Walter,” chirped Lois. “Such a nice man. Did he tell you about his daughter? Big time lawyer in the city. He’s so proud.”
That piqued my interest. “No he didn’t. Not much of a talker.”
According to Lois, Walter went to live with his daughter after his wife passed away. He’d made the trip back to Bethlehem every month to place fresh flowers on her grave and on Christmas, he and his daughter had the tradition to meet at his little cabin just over the state line.
Georgia and I exchanged a look. We were so off.
Pastor Kevin finished his intro and the congregation applauded as the stage lights turned to a blueish hue and music rose through the speakers. It was a lesser-known carol called Gabriel’s Message beautifully performed by the children’s choir. As they sang, a young lady dressed in a blue veil came on stage accompanied by a boy dressed as an angel.
“Is that Suzy McCormick?” asked Georgia in a whisper.
“Heavens, no,” said Lois. “That’s the pastor’s daughter, Joy. She’s only fifteen. You’ll see Suzy later.”
Oh yippee.
When the song ended, a scripture was read and we were instructed to follow the drummer boy outside. We all filed out. Since we were towards the back, we ended up getting clumped in the straggler’s section but that didn’t dilute our experience.
It was a walking tour of the nativity story. Costumed characters stood in perfectly still vignettes like statues in a scene. Large scrolls served to indicate what scene we were passing. There was the angel appearing to Joseph in a dream. The teen boy playing Joseph did a good job at acting frightened.
There was Mary (played by yet another girl) visiting her cousin Elizabeth. We walked further down to see the Herod scene played out by a ten-year-old boy lying on a mountain of gold. That was a little disturbing.
Then another two actors playing Mary and Joseph traveling to Bethlehem on a Donkey. They had a real donkey.
I was about to be extremely impressed by that until I spotted the camels. Where the heck did they get three camels? These guys weren’t fooling around with their nativity show.
“Watch out,” said Lois, nudging us with her arm. “Those creatures like to spit.”
Georgia chuckled. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
I clung tight onto Reeses just in case. His furry little ears perked to attention at the sight of all the other animals.
“Do you want to play with the camels, Reeses?” He responded to my question by licking my face.
Finally we reached a choir of angels singing Gloria In Excelsis Deo to a group of shepherds. Of course there were real sheep. Why not?
That’s when Lois whipped out her camera, clicking away at a particular shepherd who exposed his toothless grin at his Grandma every time the flash went off. Georgia and I stayed behind with her as those in line behind us passed to the next station.
“That must be the incredible A.J. we’ve heard so much about,” said Georgia as she waved at the boy. He waved back with unbridled enthusiasm. All the other shepherds were frozen in their poses. Not A.J.
“Hi Grandma! Hi.” More energetic waves. “Hiiiiiiii.”
He was quite a bouncy little kid.
Lois got out of line to give him hugs and passed him some candy canes.
We continued on. I was surprised the heat lamps worked so well. I didn’t feel the cold. And then we came upon the main tableau.
They spared no detail with the crèche scene. It was as picturesque as a Michelangelo painting. A wooden structure to resemble a stable stood prominently on a raised stage, which was covered in hay to resemble a tiny hill. Shepherds and barn animals surrounded the Holy Family. Everyone posed perfectly still.
That didn’t seem to sit right with Reeses who wiggled out of my arms and bolted to warn the other animals that their humans were comatose or maybe taxidermic. He leaped onto the scene, barking, issuing his battle call.
Beware fellow four-footed friends. It’s PEOPLE!
He spooked the sheep and the horses. Grown men dressed as shepherds tried to calm the animals by double-downing on their tethers.
“Reeses, get back here.” I chased him into the nativity scene, stepping over the empty manger to catch him. I don’t know what got into him. He was usually better behaved than me.
He yelped at me as if to say Run! Save yourself while you can. They’re stuffing humans.
So I dove for it. The sheep bleated. The horse neighed. The humans gasped.
But I got him, squirmy little bugger.
“What’s got into you, peanut butter cup?”
That’s when I noticed my foot was tangled in Mary’s robes. My shoe had somehow gotten caught on the hem, dragging the fabric with me as I flew through to catch my dog. There was a mile of fabric and I was stepping on a piece of it. The rest of the skirt rode up to her waist, exposing her long johns and almost covering the baby in her arms. He was fast asleep, not bothered by any of it thank goodness.
“Sorry ma’am.” I righted her skirt, fluffing it up into a giant, pillowy meringue.
Joseph scowled at me.
I scooped up Reeses and returned to Georgia. She covered her face, likely embarrassed to be seen with me, but Lois laughed like it was the best thing she’d seen all year.
“That is Suzy McCormick,” she said, doubling over. “And now you’ve been aquatinted.”
“Lucky me.” I sent Reeses back into his bag. “You’re in trouble, mister.”
Lois was watching Suzy, shaking her head. “She insisted on making her own costume.”
“Well, that’s pretty crafty of her,” said Georgia. “I can’t sew to save my life.”
Suzy was the only one who didn’t quite look like she stepped out of a painting. Her platinum blond hair was styled in crinkly waves, feathering out of a loosely placed blue satin veil. It was the shiniest type of satin, reflecting the white twinkle lights with a bright shine. She wore enough mascara to ward off ninjas and her lips were painted a fire engine red.
Lois went on. “And her hus
band! Poor fella. Just look at how tired he is.”
“Which one is he?” I asked. “Let me guess. Joseph?” The scowly one.
“Yup.“ She lowered her voice for dramatic effect. “Nine kids. Baby Jesus makes ten.”
“Yikes.” Georgia winced.
I laughed. “And I thought I came from a big family.”
“How about you two?” asked Lois, wagging her brows at us. “Any children?”
“Us?” Georgia exclaimed, half laughing. “No.”
“Why not?”
Hmmm, maybe because we’d known each other for less than forty-eight hours? Strangely enough, it didn’t feel like that. It was almost as though Georgia had always been in my life, tucked away in that dormant part of my heart. And now here she was, smiling and laughing. Being radiant.
Georgia turned her gaze to me. There was softness in her eyes communicating a deep thought. My chest filled with warmth as we stood there, eyes fixed on each other. Georgia’s lovely lips parted. She wanted to say something. Maybe answer Lois’ question. But Lois had moved along down the line without us noticing.
How long were we staring at each other like that?
“Shall we?” I asked, offering Georgia my hand.
“We shall.” She laced her fingers through mine, lazily strolling with me. Even through our gloves my skin burned from her touch. Electricity shot up my arm, jolting my heart to a gallop. Perhaps she felt my reaction because she squeezed my hand tighter, inclining her body closer as we walked.
We followed the crowd around the corner of the great barn where everyone gathered to listen to the combined adult and children’s choirs. They had just started the most beautiful rendition of O Holy Night. Harmonies soared to our ears accompanied by pre-recorded orchestrations. The sound was full and powerful—how I imagined a true choir of angles would sound. I couldn’t imagine the moment could be more perfect but then it began to snow and the heavenly experience was complete. Soft, white flakes descended upon us, dancing with a feathery glow as they reflected the Christmas lights. Georgia’s features gleamed. She smiled, watching the choir perform while snowflakes landed on her hair to form a halo. I’d never seen anything so angelic in my life. And all I wanted to do in that moment was to absorb her in my arms and brush my lips against hers.
