Christmas shorts
Kjell sat in
inside a Salvation Army shelter on Christmas day. He could barely move, think
or feel, since he just arrived off the street from the minus fifty degrees with
the wind-chill. Even though he was too sick with cancer, too old to work, too
poor to own a home or pay rent for some other suitable accommodation; even
though he had lost his wife a year ago, and their only child was in a special
needs home because of her disabilities; he was most grateful for the Sally Ann
shelter and the Christmas dinner he was about to eat with the others in
similar, if not worst circumstances than himself.
Sigrid had all she could do to drag herself out
of bed on Christmas morning. She heard the bells ringing from the village
church steeple, heralding this day of joy, peace and love. Yet she wondered
where these virtues were; had she lost them forever now that she had gone
through with the divorce from her abusive husband? Where was the spirit of
Christmas? Suddenly she heard a knock on her door. Should she answer it? Who
was it? Surely her husband didn’t know her whereabouts now, or did he? Fear and
dread, mingled with a seed of hope, and a speck of courage led her to open the
door. It was her pastor, the Reverend Sharon Olavstad. After wishing Sigrid a
God Jul, she said, “I thought you might need someone to talk to, so here I am.”
Sigrid poured out her soul to the pastor for the rest of the morning.
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