FanStory.com - Christmas Angelby Begin Again

"I might not have if you'd been one of those procrastinators who put off their shopping till the last minute," Mr. Olson teased, "but I understand your circumstances, Jeremiah."

Jeremiah chuckled weakly. "The wife and I understand, but how do you explain to a child that Santa isn't coming this year?"

Mr. Olson's eyes softened. "Christmas is about joy. Every child should have something to make them smile on Christmas morning."

Jeremiah nodded but kept his gaze on the telescope displayed in the window. "I bet you sold a lot of those this year. It seems to be a popular item."

"Yeah, I think it was on every little boy's Christmas list this year, including Tommy's."

"Yeah," Jeremiah admitted. "Tommy stood and stared at that display every time we passed by. Money's tight, though. He needed new shoes, which I bought with what I got paid today. With the few dollars left, I thought I'd at least get the book. I know he'll love it."

Mr. Olson smiled and handed Jeremiah the bag with Stargazing for Kids. "That'll be a great start for him."

Jeremiah smiled. "Maybe next year he can get the telescope. He's a good boy and I know he'll understand. Merry Christmas, Mr. Olson. You better hurry home to the family."

Mr. Olson hesitated, his smile faltering. "No family this year. It was just the Mrs. and me, and it always seemed enough. She's gone now; now it's me and the memories."

Jeremiah's face softened. "No family? No friends?"

"No," Mr. Olson said with a sigh. "When you get to be my age, there's not many left."

"You're welcome to come home with me. We don't have much, but we're always willing to share."

"Thanks," Mr. Olson said, shaking his head gently. "But I think I'll sit this one out." He followed Jeremiah to the door but as Jeremiah stepped out into the cold, he called after him, "Wait!" Reaching into the storefront display, Mr. Olson pulled out one of the telescopes. "Here. Merry Christmas to the little guy."

"I can't, Mr. Olson. I couldn't possibly pay you —"

"Didn't ask for payment." He patted Jeremiah's shoulder. "Every child deserves a Christmas."

Jeremiah stared at him, overwhelmed. "Thank you. You've made our Christmas so much brighter."

"Mine too! Merry Christmas to you and the family."

*****

Mr. Olson locked the shop and headed home as Jeremiah disappeared into the snow.

Later, as he set a pot of water to boil and began preparing dinner, he reached for the bag of groceries —only to realize it wasn't there. His brow furrowed. He must have left it at the shop. Sighing, he grabbed his coat and headed back out into the cold.

He noticed a small figure huddled in the shop's doorway when he arrived. A boy, no older than ten, lay shivering under a threadbare coat, clutching a broken angel in his hands. Its chipped wing and scuffed face caught the faint light of the streetlamp.

Mr. Olson froze, his breath hitching. The angel looked just like the one his wife had treasured — a ceramic piece she'd found years ago and called her "Christmas miracle." She loved angels and had filled their home with them. After she passed, he couldn't bear to look at them anymore and had packed them all away.

"Hey there," Mr. Olson said softly, crouching beside the boy.

The boy stirred, startled. "I'm sorry," he stammered. "I'll leave."

"No, you're fine," Mr. Olson said gently. His gaze returned to the angel. "Where'd you find that?"

"In the trash," the boy murmured, hugging it tighter. "It's broken, but I think it's still beautiful."

Mr. Olson's throat tightened. "You're right — it is beautiful." He paused, thinking of that empty house he would be returning to. "What do you say we get you someplace warm? There's plenty of room at my table."

The boy hesitated. "You want me to go with you?"

It's Christmas — a time for sharing. I want to share my cozy fire and warm dinner with you unless you've got somewhere else to be."

The young boy shook his head. "I'd love to share Christmas with you."

As they climbed into Mr. Olson's truck, he glanced at the angel again. It seemed to shimmer faintly for a brief moment, and when he looked closer, the chipped wing was whole.

A smile spread across his face, a warmth filling his heart that he hadn't felt for a while. It felt like his wife was there, watching over him — and maybe, just maybe, she had sent this boy to remind him of the joy of giving and the spirit of Christmas.

As they drove home through the snow, the boy whispered, "Merry Christmas."