All of them gathered round and stared at the thing Gideon was pointing at. It was a golden bag, three feet high with tissue paper bursting from the opening at the top. Scrawled across the front of the bag was this message:
For Gideon. Open this first.
“It’s for me?” Gideon’s voice sounded stronger than it had in days.
“That’s what it says.” Brian eased Gideon from his arms so she could stand against the counter. “Go ahead, honey. Open it.”
Gideon looked first at Brian, then at Tish. “Really?”
“Yes, honey. It has your name on it.”
With gentle fingers, Gideon took hold of the bag and lay it sideways. Then she pulled out the tissue, one piece at a time until she could just make out the top of a box. “It can’t be…”
“What is it? What is it?” Dustin jumped up and down, barely able to contain himself.
“Just a minute, son.” Brian tried to peer into the bag, equally anxious to see what was inside. “Give her a chance to open it.”
Carefully Gideon pulled the box out, gasping at what was inside. “She-she’s perfect. Just like the one in the catalog.”
Brian felt his stomach drop. It was a brand-new doll, the kind with shiny hair and eyes that opened and shut, and a beautiful dress with tiny lace trim. It was the exact doll Gideon had always wanted. Brian stared at Tish and shook his head. She did the same, tears in her eyes.
There was nothing he could say. God, where did this come from? It wasn’t possible. No one knew about Gideon’s perfect Christmas except the people in her immediate family.
Gideon opened the cardboard and pulled the doll out. There in the doll’s hands was an envelope. Gideon wrinkled her nose and stared at it. “What’s this, Daddy?”
Brian took the envelope, his hands shaking. Maybe the person had signed the card. Maybe they would finally know where this amazing abundance had come from. He slid his finger beneath the flap and pulled out a folded piece of paper. As he did, something fell onto the counter.
“Brian, look at that.” Tish sounded almost frightened.
“What is it? Someone tell me?” Dustin tugged at Brian’s sleeve.
“Wait, son.” He lifted the smaller piece of paper from the counter. It was an official cashier’s check from a bank in Redding, California, made out to Gideon. Brian’s eyes darted over to the amount and his heart stopped.
It was for fifty thousand dollars.
Fifty thousand dollars! God, what have you done? How did you do this? Fifty thousand dollars? Brian blinked, but the number remained the same. It was more money than he could make in two years. Three even. His entire body shook and he had to remind himself to breathe. His heartbeat raced like it might tear through his chest. “Tish? Do you see this?”
He looked at her. She nodded, but she was weeping too hard to speak. Her arms clutched Gideon and Dustin.
“Is it money, Daddy?” Gideon stared at the check, her innocent eyes not understanding the zeroes.
“Yes, honey.” There was nothing Brian could do to stop the tears. They filled his eyes and spilled onto his cheeks. “Enough money for your transplant.”
“Really?” Gideon’s eyes were brighter than before. “You mean I can get better now?”
“Yes, honey.” Brian’s voice cracked and he circled his arms around the others, too shaken to speak.
They stayed that way a long time, until Dustin poked his head up near Brian’s side. “Is it a lot of money, Daddy?”
“Yes, son, it is.” Brian wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt and stared at Tish. How was it possible? Who could have done this? The unanswered questions in his own heart were mirrored in her expression.
“Can we open our stockings?” Dustin’s eyes were wide and he took three quick steps toward them. “Please, can we?”
Tish nodded. “Go ahead. You can both open them.”
Dustin raced into the living room. Gideon followed more slowly. Her color looked better than it had all day. She cradled her new doll in her arms and settled into the chair closest to the tree. “Go ahead, Dustin. Me and my dolly need a rest.”
When the kids were out of earshot, Brian set the check carefully on the counter and took Tish in his arms. “It’s a miracle,” Brian whispered against the side of her face. “She’s going to be okay, honey. I can feel it.”
Tish was trembling, her body still jerking every few seconds from the sobs that racked her body. “But where did it come from, Brian? Money like that doesn’t just show up.”
“Right now I don’t know, and I really don’t care.” Brian stepped back and stared at the check once more. “It’s here. And because of that Gideon’s going to get better.”
“Wait.” Tish searched the counter. “Wasn’t there a note in the envelope?”
“There was.” Brian reached inside the doll box and picked up the folded piece of paper. He opened it and as he read the message, chills flashed up and down the length of his spine.
Dear Gideon, Christmas miracles happen to those who believe.
It was the same sentiment Gideon had shared with him that day at the doctor’s office. Other than those words, the page was blank. There was no name, no signature. The gifts, the tree, the money—all of it was from someone who remained completely anonymous.
“Hey, Gideon.”
She looked up from her doll. “Yes, Daddy.”
“There was something written in there with the money.” Brian’s eyes welled up, and he blinked so he could see. “‘Dear Gideon, Christmas miracles happen to those who believe.’ Does that mean anything to you?”
Across the room Gideon gasped. “It’s from Earl! Earl at the mission!”
Earl? The old man who had been so cruel to Gideon? Brian and Tish exchanged a knowing look. There was no way Earl was behind the gifts that surrounded them. He was a street person, after all. And a mean one at that. Brian cleared his throat. “Uh, Gideon, I don’t think so.”
She sat up straighter in her chair, her doll clutched to her chest. “But it is, Daddy. That’s what I wrote on his Christmas picture. And he’s the only one besides you and Mommy who knew about my perfect Christmas.” Her eyes got dreamy. “That means he opened my gift. And this is his way of telling me thank you!”
“Hmm,” Brian answered noncommittally. He shrugged in Tish’s direction. The doctors had asked them to keep Gideon as calm as possible, and this discussion was only exciting her.
“Really, Daddy.” Her expression was nearly frantic. “I know it’s from Earl.”
“Okay, sweetheart.” Tish moved to her side and felt her head. In the corner of the room, Dustin played with his fire truck, surrounded by a dozen new toys. Tish looked at him for a moment then back at Gideon. “Don’t get worked up.”
“God did it, Mommy. He really did it!” Gideon settled back into the chair. “This is exactly what I prayed for.”
“Yes, honey.” Tish smiled, her eyes red and swollen.
Brian joined them, placing his arm around Tish as they studied their daughter. “A tree. A doll. Presents. It’s the perfect Christmas.”
“No.” Gideon looked up, and Brian was struck by the wisdom in his daughter’s eyes. A wisdom that went years beyond her age. “That’s not what I prayed for.”
Suddenly Brian knew what was coming. After all, he had been there with Gideon that afternoon in the doctor’s waiting room when she’d prayed.
“Well? What did you pray for?” Tish sniffed, her cheeks still wet.
“Daddy knows.” Gideon shot a glance at Brian. “Right?”
“Right.” He loved the sparkle in Gideon’s eyes. It was still hard to believe she might live. That God had used the generosity of someone they didn’t know to bring them a gift they could never repay.
“Okay, guys.” There was life in Tish’s eyes again, too. “I’m the only one in the dark here.”
“Well.” Gideon drew a slow breath. “I prayed God would do something really amazing. Not like a dolly or a fire truck or money.
I prayed he would make Earl believe again.” Her smile took up most of her face. “And that’s just what happened.”
“Something big like that, huh?” Tish looked at Brian and shook her head, clearly struck by Gideon’s tender heart.
“Yes, Mommy.” Gideon hugged her doll. “Something so big it could only be a Christmas miracle.”
Earl caught a late flight that afternoon and by five o’clock a taxi was dropping him off in front of the old house. There were several cars parked in the driveway.
For a moment he stood there and stared at it—the place where he’d grown up, the yard where he and Anne had once sat and talked and fallen in love. Not once during his time on the streets of Portland had he ever thought he’d be here again.
But here he was. And all because of one special little girl.
Okay, God. Give me the words.
He’d checked the mirror in the airport and knew he looked presentable. In fact, he barely recognized himself. That was just as well. It would have killed his parents to see the way he’d looked a few days ago. This new look—clean clothes, neatly shaven—was much better for a reunion.
Not that he knew whether they were home or not.
There’d been no time to call. The idea was too last minute. He had no idea what he’d find, no way of knowing whether his parents would even want to see him after so many years. Or whether they were still alive. Shame kicked at him again. How wrong he’d been not to call, not to make some attempt at communicating with them before this.
He stood a little straighter. Either way, he was a fifty-one-year-old prodigal son, and it was Christmas Eve. Whatever had happened to his parents in the past years, there was no better time to find out.
He strode up the walkway to the front door. Then, without waiting another moment, he knocked.
Nearly five seconds passed. Suddenly the door opened and his mother appeared. Christmas music filled the house, and the voices of people laughing and talking rang in the background. His mother stared at him strangely. “Can I help—”
“Mom.” Earl saw the flash of recognition in her eyes. She hadn’t known it was him at first, but now… now she knew. “Mom, I’m home.”
“Earl?” Her voice was broken and weak—almost childlike. He stepped into the house and took her in his arms. She was shaking, and for a moment Earl thought she might pass out. “Thank God. Oh, thank God. I knew you’d come home at Christmastime.”
All he could do was hold her.
After a moment of silence, she leaned back and framed his face in her hands. Then, with a smile, she linked arms with him and headed into the living room.
At one end sat his father. He looked older, more frail than the last time Earl had seen him. Seated around the room were Earl’s brother and sister, their spouses, and kids. Conversations stopped and the room fell silent as Earl and his mother walked into view.
His sister gasped and then covered her mouth.
For a moment, no one spoke. Earl knew it was his move, his turn to apologize. But his throat was thick and he knew if he tried to talk he would break down and cry.
Almost as though he could sense Earl’s discomfort, his father stood and moved slowly across the room. Their eyes met and held, then his father engulfed him in a desperate hug that erased the years. “Welcome home, son.”
“I’m—I’m so sorry, Dad.” Earl’s voice broke and he buried his face in his father’s shoulder.
One by one the others rose and joined in the embrace. Earl stood utterly still, his tears splashing against his new shoes. What was this? How could they so quickly forgive him? And why would they still love him after all his years of silence?
It was a moment that defined their love, a moment that told Earl everything he needed to know: He was going to be okay. No, he would not have Anne and Molly. Not for a long while. But he had the love of his family. And a faith in God that had never been there before.
“Oh, Earl.” His mother clung to him even more tightly than before. “You’re really here!”
Then, as briefly as he could, he told them about Gideon and her gift and how it had changed his mind about life and love. Even God’s love.
His mother still looked at him as though he might disappear at any moment. Then she said something Earl had never expected her to say. “How fitting—that God would use a child to make the miracle happen. Especially at Christmas.”
Earl’s legs trembled. The love from his parents, his family, was almost more than he could take. He was so undeserving. What if he hadn’t opened the child’s gift? What if he’d tossed it in the trash can like he’d planned? Neither of them would have found life—neither him nor her.
With a shudder, he shook his head and cast a pleading look at his father. “We’ve lost so much time.”
“Yes,” his father wrapped his arm around him once more. “But think how much time we have left.”
POSTSCRIPT
The wedding was over and Earl slipped into the foyer. He needed to find Gideon, needed to give her something.
How good God had been to them over the years. Gideon had figured out that their Christmas surprises were from him, and he had flown back to Portland and spent time with the Mercer family. He’d stayed in touch throughout Gideon’s transplant process. And when she came home two months later with a healthy report, Earl was the first one she called.
She had become something of a granddaughter to him. Someone he loved as dearly as he’d loved his own girl.
He had flown out for the wedding. He still lived in Redding. His parents had both died years ago, so he had the old house to himself now. Just him, alone with the Lord, celebrating life and anxious for heaven.
He maneuvered himself past the milling crowd and peered over the heads of a group of men. There she was. Surrounded by guests in the far corner of the church foyer. He made his way closer and motioned to her. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Gideon?”
Her face lit up, those unforgettable eyes shining. She excused herself and followed him to a quiet spot around the corner.
“Earl.” She took his hands in hers. “I’m so glad you made it.”
A blush warmed his face and he stared at his shoes for a moment. “I have a plane to catch in a few hours.” He handed her a package. “I wanted you to open this before I go.”
“Earl, you shouldn’t have. It’s enough that you’re here.” She slid her finger into a seam in the wrapping paper and pulled out a framed painting. For a long moment she merely stared at it. Then two delicate tears trickled down her cheeks. “Oh… It’s beautiful, Earl. I can’t believe it.”
It was an original painting, one he had commissioned from an artist friend he knew at church. Earl had found an old photograph of Gideon as an eight-year-old, a picture she’d given him long ago. Then he’d asked the artist to duplicate it on canvas. The man had done a stunning job of capturing Gideon’s soulful eyes and the emotion she carried in her heart at that young age.
But that wasn’t what made Gideon stare in wonder.
There was something else—something Earl had asked the artist to add to the painting. On the left side it read, “Christmas miracles happen to those who believe.” And beneath that was a perfect illustration of the gift that had started it all.
The gift that had both changed them… and saved them.
A pair of bright red, woolen gloves.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Reader,
Many of you know me as a best-selling fiction author. Others think of me as the writer who brings you collections of true miracle stories. Gideon’s Gift is a combination of both these passions. Whereas other miracle stories I write about are rooted in truth, this one grew from the soil of my heart.
I hope you enjoyed traveling the pages of Gideon’s Gift, walking the streets of Portland with Earl, and standing by as a very special little girl longed for a miracle. Perhaps you’ve read a chapter a night for each of the twelve days of Christmas. Or maybe you found time to curl up in a chair and read G
ideon’s story in one sitting. Either way, my prayer for you is this: that like Gideon you would believe in miracles this Christmas season.
Maybe for you that means trusting God in a dark time. Or maybe it means making a phone call and mending ties between you and someone you love. Maybe it’s a new doll for your daughter or a fire truck for your son. Whatever your situation, please, look for God’s presence this holiday season.
Because, like Gideon said, Christmas miracles do happen to those who believe. On the following pages I’ve included a list of Red Gloves Projects for you and your friends or family, or maybe your office or church group. Last year our children took on a Red Gloves Project—by raising money to feed fifteen homeless people on Christmas Day. My challenge to you is to take on a Red Gloves Project of your own. So that the type of miracle love spread by little Gideon might be spread in our own towns and communities as well.
As always, I would love to hear from you. Please contact me at my email address, [email protected], or at my website, www.karenkingsbury.com.
May God grant you and yours the wonder and beauty of a miraculous and memorable Christmas.
Karen Kingsbury
www.karenkingsbury.com
RED GLOVES PROJECTS
A Red Gloves Project is a way of giving something back during the Christmas season. Each project idea involves red gloves. I invite you and your family to take part in one of them—or to create one of your own.
Remember, Christmas miracles happen to those who believe.
Start saving your pennies. The week before Christmas, purchase a pair of red gloves, wrap them, and stick a card or drawing inside. Then deliver it to the first needy person you see—whether he or she is standing at the end of a freeway ramp or eating dinner at your local homeless shelter. Do this with a group of people and impact an entire group of street people.
Use your extra money to buy food for street people. As you distribute meals, include pairs of red gloves. Again, if you’re bagging the food, you can put the gloves inside where they can find them.
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