Christmas Eve Dinner

Late one Christmas Eve I took a break from arranging gifts under the tree and drove to the convenience store for cigarettes. It was cold and late and I was anxious to finish assembling plastic toys and attaching decals. The kids would be up early to discover what Santa had brought them. My warm bed was calling to me.

As I returned to my car an old man in a worn coat approached me in the parking lot.

“Excuse me sir, could you spare a couple of dollars?” he asked. He surprised me; I thought the police had cleared the panhandlers from this part of town.

“No, I can’t” I replied and reached for the door handle.

“I’m hungry sir, I’m a veteran, please…” This one was bold. Usually these people took no for an answer and moved on quickly. I ignored him, got into my car and prepared to start the engine. He remained at my door, just staring. I rolled down the window, annoyed.

“Look, I don’t give money to strangers on the street. You move along.” That should have been the end of it. But he stood fast, staring at me through tired eyes from under the dirty brim of a ball cap. I wasn’t about to let this guy intimidate me. I returned his gaze defiantly.

“It’s Christmas…” he said softly, then slowly turned and walked away.

I was irritated and turned out of the parking lot to start for home. But his words were haunting; it’s Christmas. A sense of shame crept over me like a cold draft under my jacket. Driving home to my comfortable house I wondered where he was headed. Perhaps to find a fence as a windbreak against the cold while he made his bed on the ground. I remembered a story my mother once told me of passing a longhaired tramp on the street and wondering to herself if that was how God might choose to reveal himself to the world.

Just ahead the Western Sizzler Steak House was open for the holiday. My car seemed to turn into the parking lot on it’s own. I asked the waitress to do me a favor.

“Look” I said, “a man will come in here in a minute. I want you to give him whatever he wants. Make sure to include dessert. Anything left over is yours as a tip, OK?” I handed her a twenty and wrote my phone number, asking her to call me by midnight if he didn’t arrive.

I found him a block away, leaning into the wind with his collar pulled up around his face. He looked warily in my direction as I stopped the car and motioned him over.

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I want to give you something.”
He stood at the curb silently.
I continued, “The restaurant back there is holding a meal for you.”
“I didn’t ask you for a meal” he protested.
“Would you let me do this,” I asked, “please?” I extended my hand through the open window.

He hesitated, but then his eyes softened and he accepted my handshake. “Thank you” he said, “Merry Christmas to you and to your family.”
Merry Christmas to you, too,” I replied and drove away. In the rearview mirror I saw him watch me until I turned the corner toward home.

The phone rang just before midnight; it was the waitress.

“Didn’t he come in?” I asked.
“Oh, he’s here now, still eating. I just wanted you to know he arrived OK and is enjoying Christmas dinner. In fact, the cook and I made up a box of food to take with him tonight. We didn’t want him to be hungry again in the morning.”
“Did I leave you with enough money?”
“Don’t worry about the money,” she said, “you left plenty. I just wanted you to know that your friend is here, and to wish you a Merry Christmas.”

The next day my family gathered to open presents. I have forgotten what was under the tree for me that morning. But I will always remember the unexpected gift a lonely stranger gave to me on Christmas Eve. He gave me my first heartfelt experience of gratitude and humility.

In this holiday season I remain grateful for the abundance of blessings in my life, and humble in the knowledge that I have not earned them. All my blessings are but gifts of God’s grace.