Bitter cold air rushes by, pulling the heat from the open door behind a tired, middle aged man. He closes the door with little effort as the wind tugs along with him. A breath, the cold enters the man’s lungs and he coughs suddenly from the shock. Fumbling in his jacket, he extracts a pack of cigarettes and taps out a cylinder. He lights it eagerly and draws the warm smoke deep into his lungs, holding it there for a moment. The warmth spreads through him a little before the wind rushes by again and tears it from him. Not enough. He clutches his jacket to himself and makes his way along the street to his car.

It’s December 24th, Christmas Eve, 3:06 am, and he’s just finished his fourteen hour shift. He makes it to his car and fumbles with the lock, the cold stiffening his fingers. Eventually gaining entry he sits heavily in the driver’s seat and slumps back, exhaling a puff of smoke into the ceiling. Finally off his feet he tries to relax but feels the cold bleeding out of the material of the driver’s seat and finds no comfort. He thinks of home, puts the key in the ignition, says a quick prayer to any given god, and turns it over. The scrap beast kicks and groans, wishing last time was the last time, before coming to life once more. He presses on the accelerator a few times in neutral, testing the car’s reaction, before rolling forward into the street. There’s no traffic at this time of night.

He raps the heater controls with his scarred knuckles, knowing it won’t work, before taking another draw from the cigarette. Tightening his jacket beneath his safety belt, he rides along in silence down the same road he’s traveled for thirty years. The structures lining the street are tall and dark, lifeless and light-less; no signs of life at this time of night or street lamps in this part of town. Those structures just stand in loneliness, like rows of tombstones, and as he feels them closing in on him again, his headlights strike a barrier. He slows to a stop before a yellow barricade and a sign that reads: Road Construction. The man swears under his breath and puts the car in reverse, seeking the overlooked detour. He’s on an unusual path now, one out of his control but designated for him. A new sense of worry forms in his mind; not that he doesn’t know this city, but in the dead of night everything becomes mysterious and unfamiliar. Spotting another detour sign, he follows it with some manner of faith.

The headlights again flash upon an object in his way, a fast-moving object that appears as if from nowhere, with a pair of green eyes reflected in the dark. In his surprise he gives the wheel a hard turn and barrels into a parking lot, narrowly missing the dog that runs on unaware of the fact its life was in danger. The man swears again and turns back to spot the animal but finds only darkness. Relaxing back in his seat, he exhales the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The vapor appears, illuminated by light before him streaming from wide open doors. A sudden sense of fear comes over him, he’s had this dream before, but it doesn’t end the same way. The light from his headlights illuminate a sign near the stairway, Sovereign Grace Church.

Has he stumbled on a robbery? With the lights on and doors open, surely not. Either way, it wasn’t his problem. After a moment in consideration, he takes one last draw from his cigarette, snuffs it out on the dash and steps back into the cold night. Closing the door to his car, he notices another vehicle parked closer to the entrance. Hands planted firmly in his pockets he walks toward the stairs, stooping to look into the other car as he passes. It’s now he feels it, a warmth pouring from the open door. As he approaches, the warmth grows exponentially and he can hear a voice being carried along with it. he freezes, another flash of fear, but from where he stands he can see the deviation. Beyond the threshold and down the center aisle he can see a man on the stage pacing back and forth, reading aloud from a notepad. In the end, the radiant warmth gets the better of the traveler’s sensibilities and he takes a seat in the back of the sanctuary.

The speaker reads with a clear voice that carries unhindered through the empty auditorium; and with nothing else to do, the traveler listens. He seems to be practicing a sermon, occasionally stopping mid sentence and saying something indiscernible to himself before scribbling on his notepad. The traveler settles in his relief of being unnoticed and leans back in the pew, eyes closed; a nap in the warmth would do him good and the droning of the speaker is a welcome distraction.

“You okay?”

What seems like mere moments later the traveler is disturbed from his rest. Opening his eyes he finds the speaker turned around in the pew in front of him. Before he’s quite regained his senses he makes to stand, and offers a hurried apology, “Sorry, Father. I’ll leave.”

“No, no,” the speaker says, waving a hand in dismissal. “You’re fine. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

The traveler sits back down, thankful for the time to collect himself. “I am. Thanks,” he says, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice you until now. How long have you been here?’

The traveler looks at his watch, 4:30. “About an hour.”

“Wow. I didn’t realize I got so lost in my notes,” he says with a laugh. “So what brings you here this time of night?”

“Dog,” he answers, sleepily.

The speaker gives him a puzzled expression.

“I was . . . on my way home from work and got detoured, almost hit a dog. I swerved into your lot to miss it and . . . noticed the door open.”

“I see.”

“Was the damnedest thing . . .” he pauses abruptly, realizing what he’s said. “Sorry, Father.”

The speaker smiled. “Don’t worry about it. And I’m a pastor, not a priest.”

“Oh,” the traveler answered. He thinks of something to move the conversation away from his blunder. “So what about you? With the doors wide open and the heat cranked up.”

“Oh, that,” the speaker says with a laugh. “The hot water heater won’t shut off so I’m staying here in case the church catches fire or something. I called and left a message for the repairman to find in the morning.”

“I could take a look at it if you like.”

The speaker sits up in surprise. “You a plumber?” he asks.

“No. But when you live in my building you learn to do what you can.”

“I’d really appreciate it,” the speaker says, reaching out his hand. “At the very least it’ll be good to have a fresh perspective.”

The traveler eyes the other man’s hand for a moment before shaking it, realizing he’s just put himself out again. His coworkers always tell him he’s too obliging and his supervisors know it. That’s how he ended up working the hours he does. Day after day of overtime and irregular shifts play havoc with his biology and his countenance becomes more worn every day; he looks a man ten years older than himself. It’s just something else in his life he’s found inescapable.

“It’s just down here,” the speaker says as they arrive at the basement landing. “Sorry for the mess.”

The tools and rags scattered about make for a familiar scene in the traveler’s eyes and the temperature in the room is incredible. He immediately sheds his jacket and, almost instinctively, begins rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll let you know when I’m done,” he says, eager to get it over with.

“Hey, don’t count me out,” the speaker says with a laugh. “Maybe I couldn’t fix it myself but I can still help.”

Somehow, the possibility never even crossed the traveler’s mind. He stares at the ground for a moment before mustering a simple, “Thanks.”

They work for hours and snow begins to fall, dancing in the light of the open door. As the sun rises the speaker calls out for breakfast and they rest and share a meal, chatting about whatever comes to mind. Nearly four hours after they’d begun, the repairman arrives to find two men laughing together in a veritable sauna of a basement next to a steaming water heater.

“You called for a plumber?”

“Oh!” The speaker jumps up, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Yeah, thanks for coming.” He shakes the tradesman’s hand.

“Looks like you’ve been busy,” he says, eyeing the tools strewn about the room.

“Yes but we’ve learned our lesson.”

The traveler stands up and sidesteps the plumber saying, “Well get out of your way.”

“I’m sorry I kept you here so long for nothing,” the speaker says as they return to the church entrance. “But I appreciated the company.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He turns to leave but the speaker stops him. “Hey, if you’re off work for Christmas, drop in for the service and we’ll get together afterwords to watch the game.”

The traveler smiles. “Yeah. I’ll do that.”

He walks down the steps into the cold morning air as the snow lays softly on his head and the rays of the morning sun fill the space between the city buildings. Fumbling in his jacket, he extracts a pack of cigarettes, puts it back, and finds his keys.

---

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone. I hope you all enjoyed this simple story of friendship and kindness, tis the season after all. Let this piece be a reminder to share a bit of kindness to the people you meet because you don’t know their circumstances. Working with the public like I did for years, I met some really hateful people; people for whom your slightest action was just the most objectionable thing they’d ever experienced. Even so, I tried to show them as much respect as I showed everyone else because I had no idea where they’d come from or what they’d been through. On a similar note, sometimes I’d have people to which I’d ask, “How are you today?” and they’d reply something like, “Can’t complain but even if I did no one would listen.” That is one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard. Everyone needs someone to complain to but, and this is important, not someone who uses the chance to throw their opinions around. It does so much more good for a person’s mental health to just listen patiently without offering advice. Save it unless they ask for it and you’ll both be spared a lot of headaches. Well I can feel a proper rant coming on so I’ll snuff it out here before it gets out of hand. Anyway, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, kindness, patience, friendship.

God Bless.