A Midnight Miracle

by Gary Parker

  “I’m not blaming anybody, Mom,” Jenna said. “That’s a resolution I’ve made. I’m going to listen more and judge less. Maybe we should all try that.”

  Her mom hesitated, and Jenna decided to move things to a more positive tone. “Can we sit together at church?” she asked. “Like always.”

  The offer seemed to brighten her mom’s mood. “I’ll be there at 10:45. Will Mr. Lincoln want to sit with you?”

  Jenna hesitated. “I don’t know if he’s coming,” she said. “Is it okay if he sits with us if he does?”

  Margaret sighed, and several seconds ticked off. Jenna held her breath. If her mom wanted, she could make things really difficult.

  “You like this man, don’t you?” Margaret asked.

  “Yes. He’s got a quality about him. You’ll see it too if you give him a chance.”

  Margaret grunted. “You know I just want what’s best for you. Your happiness is at the top of my list.”

  “I appreciate that,” Jenna said. “And I’m not sure what the future holds. But that’s not the worry right now. I want to take one day at a time; that’s what I’m doing with Rem, and I’d like your approval, I really would.”

  Margaret hesitated one final time, and Jenna knew she was weighing her options. Stand firm against Rem and risk losing her daughter or relax, at least a little, and see what happened.

  “Bring him to church if he’ll come,” Margaret said. “If you’re going to see him, I better get to know him and take his measure.”

  “You’ll charm him, I’m sure.”

  “Don’t get sarcastic with me.” The words sounded sharp, but Jenna heard a light humor in them. A good sign.

  “He’ll charm you too; he’s got a way about him.”

  “Like I said, he’s just like your dad.”

  “See you at church.”

  “Okay, I’ll save two seats.”

  Jenna hung up and moved to the kitchen to make some tea. She had a lot to do this morning. As she turned on the stove to heat water, her phone rang again. She answered and heard Rem on the other end.

  “You up?”

  “Yeah, a little while ago.”

  “You want to eat lunch with me and Dad? He said having you here sure brightened up our place.”

  “I’ve got church,” she said.

  “Again?”

  “Yeah, it’s crazy, but our folks always gather informally on Christmas Day for coffee, cinnamon rolls, a short devotional. It’s like family casual and real short. Mom said you could sit with us.”

  “You got her permission?”

  “It took an act of the United Nations, but yes, I did. You better come too, since you made me miss the end of last night’s service.”

  Rem chuckled. “I hope I get credit for going to church twice in twenty-four hours.”

  “I don’t think it’ll help you with the Lord, but with Mom, it’s a big plus.”

  “What time?”

  “Get there about eleven. We have refreshments, sing a couple of carols, then Nelson gives his devotional. All the children gather at the front with him. We’re in and out in forty-five minutes.”

  “See you there.”

  “I’m glad you’re coming.”

  Rem sat at the end of the pew, Jenna beside him, Margaret to her right, Roscoe beside her. Although Jenna was surprised to see Roscoe, it had lifted her heart when he’d walked in with Rem, and even more remarkably, her mom had actually smiled when she saw him. Would the miracles of this Christmas never cease?

  They’d already eaten their cinnamon rolls, talked with friends, and shared carols. It was time for the devotional. Close to twenty children had gathered on the floor around the stool where Nelson sat. He wore a red pullover sweater and navy slacks. The children’s faces glowed with expectation. Pastor Nelson always told the best stories at Christmas.

  “I’ve got a surprise for us this year,” Nelson said. “I think the best surprise ever.”

  Jenna leaned forward. Nelson’s expression seemed odd today, like he knew something nobody else did and it pleased him greatly. He picked up a sack from beside the stool and pulled out a handful of cloth masks.

  “I want you all to put on one of these,” he said, handing out the masks. “Then I want everyone to close their eyes. All of you children and the rest of the congregation too.”

  He looked up as the children tied their masks on and indicated to everybody to close their eyes. Jenna glanced at Rem, who shrugged and then shut his eyes; she did the same. The children rustled a few more seconds as they got their masks in place. Then they grew quiet. Jenna heard a door open and close. There was the sound of light footsteps, a rustle of clothes, a murmuring as if someone wanted to speak but didn’t quite know how. At least a minute passed.

  “Okay,” Nelson said softly. “Everyone can open their eyes now.”

  The congregation gasped as they looked up. Nelson wore a hospital gown, rubber gloves, and a mask. In his arms he held a baby, also in a mask. Tom and Brenda Strack sat on the front pew close by, their faces likewise covered.

  “All of you know little Mickey,” Nelson said, holding him close. “I can’t let you touch him, because he might catch something from you. That’s why we all have on the masks.”

  The congregation held their breath. What was this about?

  “We’ve all prayed for Mickey,” Nelson said. “For his mom and dad too, and his sister, Tess. We want Mickey to get better; we’ve raised money to help pay for his medical treatment, taken up offerings, left baskets all around the church to receive donations. We’ve done this hoping he could get an operation to give him a chance to grow up strong and healthy. As I said last night though, it’s been hard and things have looked bleak. We’ve needed a miracle but haven’t gotten one. We’ve all wondered why not. The lack of a miracle has tested our faith and made us cry out to God.”

  Nelson stood and held Mickey up where the congregation could better see him. The people sat on the edge of their seats. Jenna thought she saw a glistening of tears in Nelson’s eyes.

  “Today I have good news.” Nelson choked. “Last night we got our miracle. I didn’t know it at the time, but it came.”

  The congregation gasped. What did this mean? Had the doctors pronounced Mickey healed? But how? The hospital had sent him home. He wasn’t even with a doctor last night. How could a healing have happened, much less been verified?

  Jenna wondered if Nelson had fallen prey to some terrible hoax.

  “The church treasurer,” Nelson explained, “he came to me right after the service. Said he collected the offering baskets sitting around the church at about midnight. One of the baskets contained a check, a big one.”

  The crowd gasped again. “Two hundred fifty thousand dollars,” Nelson said. “Designated for the Mickey’s Miracle Fund.”

  Somebody clapped, and before Nelson could say anything else, the congregation stood as one and began to applaud. Tears ran down Nelson’s cheeks andJenna’s too, and when she turned to Rem, she saw his cheeks wet as well, and then everybody cried and hugged and shouted together. People surrounded the Stracks. Jenna wanted to move to them also, but too many people separated her from them, so she just stayed in place and hugged Rem, then her mom and Roscoe too for good measure, the tears pouring down. It took several minutes for the commotion to calm enough for Nelson to call for quiet once more. As he did, Jenna’s mind moved to the big question that she suddenly knew everybody wanted answered. Who? What person had acted so graciously? Who had given the two hundred fifty thousand?

  Nelson handed Mickey to his mom, then held up a hand to quiet everyone again. “I know what you’re asking,” he said. “Who’s the donor?”

  The congregation nodded. Nelson threw up his hands. “I can’t tell you!” he said. “The donor requested anonymity, and we have to honor that. Fact is, I don’t even know. Only our church treasurer does, and he’s bound by law to keep it quiet. So let’s just say a prayer of gratitude to God, offer our blessings upon the
kind person who did this, and let it go at that. We’ve truly seen a miracle in Hilltop this Christmas, so let’s be thankful.” He lifted his arms toward heaven. “Pray with me.”

  Many in the congregation also lifted their arms. Others knelt where they stood. Tears still filled many eyes. Rem took Jenna’s hand and squeezed it. As Nelson began to pray, Jenna kept guessing. Who gave the money? Since she was chair of the group to raise it, could the treasurer tell her? But why did it matter? It didn’t, not really. Still, she wanted to know. Who had that kind of money? Nobody she knew, that’s for sure.

  Nelson finished his prayer, dismissed the congregation, and hustled out with the Strack family. After a few minutes of excited chatter, the congregation rushed out, anxious to tell others what had happened.

  Still stunned, Jenna followed Rem out, told her mom she’d see her shortly, waved good-bye to Roscoe, and stood by Rem’s car, her mind swirling.

  “Who you figure gave the money?” she asked Rem.

  “Does it matter?” he asked. “Just accept it and move on.”

  “But I want to know,” she insisted. “Don’t you?

  He waved her off. “Not if the person wants to stay anonymous. Come on, let me take you home.”

  She faced the church, its white steeple and the snow-covered ground around it in stark contrast to the blue sky above. “It’s a fabulous day,” she said. “Maybe the best day ever.”

  “I agree. Now let’s go eat.” Rem climbed into his car, and she followed.

  As she opened the door, she saw him grab something from the passenger seat and stuff it into his jacket pocket. “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” His face turned red.

  “What is it?”

  “Don’t be so nosy.”

  “You already keeping secrets from me?”

  He pulled a brown checkbook from his pocket. “It’s a checkbook,” he said. “I didn’t want you looking in it. I bought you something and didn’t want you to see what it cost.”

  She smiled. “Was it expensive?”

  “You’ll find out later. Think you’re worth something expensive?”

  “Do you?”

  He chuckled and drove down Main Street. Covered with snow, the town looked like a postcard. She moved to snuggle closer to Rem but then stopped as a series of images popped through her head—Rem crying at the hospital as he held Mickey, his declaration that somebody needed to do something, then last night at the cemetery by his little brother’s grave—a brother who’d died of a disease similar to Mickey’s. Plus, he’d recently sold his software program. Could it be? She eyed him suspiciously, but he stared straight ahead.

  “You wrote that check for Mickey, didn’t you?” she asked.

  “You’re addled,” he said.

  “You gave it after you heard Nelson’s sermon.”

  “You need medication.”

  “Let me see your checkbook.”

  “No way. That’s private.”

  “You have enough money to give away two hundred fifty thousand?”

  “Of course I don’t. I cleared less than seven hundred thousand from selling my program. I can’t afford to give away a third of that to some kid I don’t even know.”

  “It’s not a matter of what you can afford,” she said. “It’s a matter of how kind your heart is. And yours is kind, whether you want to admit it or not.”

  He stayed firm. “Think what you want,” he said. “But don’t go offering your theory to anybody else. They’ll think you’ve gone over the edge.”

  “Not once they know you.”

  “You figure I’m staying around long enough for that to happen?”

  “If I have anything to do with it you will.” She kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a sweet man,” she said.

  “Don’t let that get around.”

  “It’s our secret,” she said.

  “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you? Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t.”

  “I’m blessed,” she said. “That’s better than being smart.”

  Rem drove through Hilltop and up the mountain toward her mom’s house. Jenna settled back in the seat. She knew that folks would talk about Mickey’s Miracle for a long time, maybe as long as she’d live. But she knew that lots of miracles had happened that year, far more than anybody else would ever realize. That didn’t bother her though. She knew, and that was more than enough.

  “What do you want to do after lunch?” she asked.

  “I thought we might take a bike ride.” He smiled mischievously.

  “You men are all alike.” She smiled back.

  “No, I mean a real bike ride—wheels, pedals, gears.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  They both laughed, and the snow sparkled against the bright sun. Jenna held Rem’s hand, and the whole world seemed full of joy.

  Gary E. Parker is the author of nineteen published books, including Secret Tides and Fateful Journeys. He currently serves as the senior pastor at First Baptist Church in Decatur, Georgia, and is a popular speaker on college and seminary campuses. He lives in north Atlanta.