lead us in a Christmas song? How about ‘Jingle Bells’?”
The children shouted their approval, and Nicholas leaned toward a perplexed Stevens. “Please lead them. I’ve got to think of something.”
Stevens nodded and took control. This enabled Nicholas to walk over to Mr. David Johnson, the head administrator who had approached Nicholas at the mall the previous day. He took his elbow and walked him into the foyer, out of earshot of the children.
“What’s going on, Mr. Johnson?” Nicholas asked. “Why are there no gifts?”
Nicholas hadn’t noticed that Sarah was hiding in the shadows to the side of the foyer. She had slipped in just a few moments earlier and was trying hard to compose herself in the hopes that no one would see the fear in her face. Upon Nicholas’s approach to Mr. Johnson, she pressed deeper into the shadows and listened intently.
“We didn’t get enough donations this year,” said Johnson sadly. “There weren’t enough gifts for even half the children.… We decided to show the children a real whole turkey.” He hesitated a second and shrugged, “The turkey is a true treat for them.”
“But that won’t feed all of them,” Nicholas said.
“We know that, of course. We have three others.” Johnson was flustered. “Each child will get a little. What choice do we have?”
Nicholas stared for a moment. He knew Mr. Johnson was trying to do his best with the meager finances available to him. He also knew these children—although they didn’t need gifts—did need hope and a belief that the world into which they’d eventually be thrown was a good world, worthy of their youthful love and trust. He glanced heavenward, hesitated for several seconds, and then turned back to his chair. Sarah stepped closer and joined several nurses and orderlies, who were curious about what Nicholas would do.
“Lord, help me,” Nicholas whispered as he resumed his seat and the final words of “Jingle Bells” were sung. He stared at the children for several seconds before suddenly smiling and reaching inside the bag. He pulled out a large frozen turkey.
“Mr. Johnson first wanted me to tell you that you’re all going to have the biggest turkey feast you’ve ever had. Here’s one turkey.” Although the children cheered, the adults looked quizzically at each other, and Mr. Johnson grew suddenly angry. Why, he wondered, would this man make such a statement when he knew there wasn’t enough?
Nicholas, meanwhile, reached into the sack and pulled out another turkey, and more cheers erupted from the children. Mr. Johnson was shocked.
“And two more.”
Nicholas then enlisted Stevens’ aid to hand turkey after turkey to orderlies who stood, nearby, stunned. Even while Stevens was helping, he stared into the sack and saw nothing—yet every time Nicholas reached in, he pulled out another turkey. Finally, Nicholas sat back, exhausted from all the bending, and happily shouted, “And many more in the kitchen just waiting to be cooked.”
The cheers were deafening, and the shock that had at first been only on Mr. Johnson’s face spread to Sarah. She stared in amazement at the empty sack, which held so much wonder.
“Now, do we have anything else in this sack?” Nicholas asked as he picked it up, scrunched it in his hands to show there was nothing, and then set it down with a bright smile on his face. The children grew silent, and Nicholas again pulled open the top to look inside.
“Looks like there’s something in there,” he finally said. Stevens stepped forward to hold the sack’s top open. Nicholas bent, reached deep inside, and pulled out a box, wrapped brightly with colored paper and ribbon. “Let’s see here.” Nicholas smiled and repositioned his glasses firmly at the bridge of his nose. He read the nametag: “Kimberly. Where is Kimberly?”
A little six-year-old girl with straight blond hair raised her hand high and stood up quickly. A wide grin spreadacross her freckled
The children shouted their approval, and Nicholas leaned toward a perplexed Stevens. “Please lead them. I’ve got to think of something.”
Stevens nodded and took control. This enabled Nicholas to walk over to Mr. David Johnson, the head administrator who had approached Nicholas at the mall the previous day. He took his elbow and walked him into the foyer, out of earshot of the children.
“What’s going on, Mr. Johnson?” Nicholas asked. “Why are there no gifts?”
Nicholas hadn’t noticed that Sarah was hiding in the shadows to the side of the foyer. She had slipped in just a few moments earlier and was trying hard to compose herself in the hopes that no one would see the fear in her face. Upon Nicholas’s approach to Mr. Johnson, she pressed deeper into the shadows and listened intently.
“We didn’t get enough donations this year,” said Johnson sadly. “There weren’t enough gifts for even half the children.… We decided to show the children a real whole turkey.” He hesitated a second and shrugged, “The turkey is a true treat for them.”
“But that won’t feed all of them,” Nicholas said.
“We know that, of course. We have three others.” Johnson was flustered. “Each child will get a little. What choice do we have?”
Nicholas stared for a moment. He knew Mr. Johnson was trying to do his best with the meager finances available to him. He also knew these children—although they didn’t need gifts—did need hope and a belief that the world into which they’d eventually be thrown was a good world, worthy of their youthful love and trust. He glanced heavenward, hesitated for several seconds, and then turned back to his chair. Sarah stepped closer and joined several nurses and orderlies, who were curious about what Nicholas would do.
“Lord, help me,” Nicholas whispered as he resumed his seat and the final words of “Jingle Bells” were sung. He stared at the children for several seconds before suddenly smiling and reaching inside the bag. He pulled out a large frozen turkey.
“Mr. Johnson first wanted me to tell you that you’re all going to have the biggest turkey feast you’ve ever had. Here’s one turkey.” Although the children cheered, the adults looked quizzically at each other, and Mr. Johnson grew suddenly angry. Why, he wondered, would this man make such a statement when he knew there wasn’t enough?
Nicholas, meanwhile, reached into the sack and pulled out another turkey, and more cheers erupted from the children. Mr. Johnson was shocked.
“And two more.”
Nicholas then enlisted Stevens’ aid to hand turkey after turkey to orderlies who stood, nearby, stunned. Even while Stevens was helping, he stared into the sack and saw nothing—yet every time Nicholas reached in, he pulled out another turkey. Finally, Nicholas sat back, exhausted from all the bending, and happily shouted, “And many more in the kitchen just waiting to be cooked.”
The cheers were deafening, and the shock that had at first been only on Mr. Johnson’s face spread to Sarah. She stared in amazement at the empty sack, which held so much wonder.
“Now, do we have anything else in this sack?” Nicholas asked as he picked it up, scrunched it in his hands to show there was nothing, and then set it down with a bright smile on his face. The children grew silent, and Nicholas again pulled open the top to look inside.
“Looks like there’s something in there,” he finally said. Stevens stepped forward to hold the sack’s top open. Nicholas bent, reached deep inside, and pulled out a box, wrapped brightly with colored paper and ribbon. “Let’s see here.” Nicholas smiled and repositioned his glasses firmly at the bridge of his nose. He read the nametag: “Kimberly. Where is Kimberly?”
A little six-year-old girl with straight blond hair raised her hand high and stood up quickly. A wide grin spreadacross her freckled
Similar Books
