A Christmas Story in Ten Parts — Carol McLeod Ministries

Christmas Story Part One

I met Miss Cookie in the lobby of my chiropractor‘s office over some small talk about his Christmas tree. It was small, but full, with a variety of nature-themed ornaments and twinkling multi-colored lights. It was simple, but festive, and it just made you smile to look at it. I told her we didn’t put up our tree this year because…well…life has been complicated and busy and disappointing. She told me she didn’t have a tree anymore.

I made some comment, I don’t really even remember what, and we sat in silence as her great grandson Giovanni played with his cars on the floor. She was called in for her appointment, and I was called in for mine…and I spent the next twenty minutes thinking about Miss Cookie and Giovanni and their lack of a Christmas tree.

I didn’t know their names at that point, and I didn’t know their story. I didn’t know that this adorable little boy was her GREAT-grandson and that she’s had custody of him since he was a baby. I didn’t know that her daughter died this year and that she’s been struggling with depression. I didn’t know that he loves trucks and that he has an “ugly Mickey” that he refuses to part with. All I knew was that they didn’t have a Christmas tree, and I was pretty sure God was prompting me to do something about it….

Christmas Story Part Two

I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman and the little boy and their home without a Christmas tree… I talked to God about it all through my appointment.

I told Him, if You want this to happen, You’re going to have to do it…I don’t even know this woman’s name…I’m not good at this kind of stuff…she’s gonna think I’m crazy. But the quiet nudging of the Holy Spirit would not let up.

I quickly began to brainstorm…how could I figure out her name and how to contact her? My Google-Fu is strong (it’s like kung-fu but for googling) and I could probably get a side hustle as a private investigator. I churned out these two brilliant ideas as I walked from the examine room to the check-out desk.

Idea #1: I’ll get her name from the sign-in sheet. Yeah, they cross it off, but it’s still easy to read, and I am an expert at handwriting analysis and deciphering.

Idea #2: I’ll ask our favorite staff member Dawn if she can give me her phone number. Okay, so that would be a total HIPPA violation, but maybe she would make an exception for me?

Before I had a chance to engage in my expert spycraft, Miss Cookie walked back into the office.

“I forgot my glasses,” she simply said.

I stood stunned at God’s divine timing and orchestration…

Christmas Story Part Three

I walked up to this woman, and I just blurted it out.

“This is going to sound crazy, but I think God wants me to get you and your little boy a Christmas tree. Would that be okay?”

“Are you serious?” she replied. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. In fact, we’re headed to the store right now, so if it’s okay, just write down your name, your address and your phone number, and I’ll call you when we’re on our way.”

She began scribbling on the notepad I keep in my purse. “My name is Lovenia, but my friends call me Miss Cookie.”

She told me a little bit of her story as she wrote…about how Giovanni came to be in her care. I commented that I couldn’t imagine having custody of a great-grandchild. She told me she couldn’t let him go into the system, so she did what she had to do.

She handed me back my notepad, and we went our separate ways. She told me later that she didn’t really expect to see me again. She didn’t even answer the phone when I called to tell her we were almost there with her Christmas delivery. She was actually surprised when we arrived at her house with a pre-lit Christmas tree, some shiny ornaments, and an angel tree topper.

She invited us in, and showed us where she was going to put the tree. Giovanni carried the boxes into the living room with such pride. We stayed for just a few minutes. I didn’t want to impose…but I told Miss Cookie that one of my friends might be calling her later and to definitely answer the phone.

Christmas Story Part Four

While we had been out shopping, I made a call to my dear friend Audrey who organizes something called the Connections Christmas Shop every year. It’s a special outreach program that gives families a hand up instead of a hand out by allowing them to buy donated gifts for very low prices. Families are nominated by teachers, friends, and co-workers to participate in this program…and it just so happened that there was one more space available for sweet Miss Cookie and Giovanni.

The Christmas Shop was taking place the very next Saturday, and when I checked back in with my friend Audrey, she said she wasn’t sure if Miss Cookie was interested in coming to the Christmas Shop. I said that was okay, and I decided that if that was it, then that was it. If I never saw or heard from Miss Cookie again, then at least I knew she had a Christmas tree.

I smiled when I saw her name on my caller ID on Thursday… “Hey, Miss Cookie! What’s up?”

Christmas Story Part Five

I have been driving since I was old enough to touch the pedals, and I have never experienced what it’s like to not be able to go where I wanted to go. Even during COVID, I was an “essential worker,” so I wasn’t ever locked down or sheltered in place.

Access to transportation is a freedom and luxury I had taken for granted, until that phone call from sweet Miss Cookie.

“I’m just calling to check on you and see how you’re doing,” she said. “I wanted you to know Giovanni put the tree up and he spent all day decorating it.”

“Awww, I bet it looks great, Miss Cookie! Hey, did my friend happen to call you the other day?”

“Yeah…it sounds nice, but I don’t think I can go.”

“Oh? Any reason?”

“Well, you know I don’t drive, and a cab to get down there and back is $30 and they’re not always on time and it’s a Saturday. So it’s a nice thing, but I just can’t. Thank you for thinking of me, though. That was so sweet.”

The distance is less than 4 miles from Miss Cookie’s house to the church, and I couldn’t help but feel that nudge again…

“Well, Miss Cookie, what if I pick you up and take you? Would you want to go with me?”

“No. You’ve done enough already. You know I’m a proud woman and I don’t like taking help from nobody.”

“I don’t like asking for help either, Miss Cookie, and I know you’re a strong, independent woman. I don’t have anything going on that morning, so it’ll just be us girls hanging out and doing some Christmas shopping. I’ll pick you up around 11.”

Christmas Story Part Six

“Where’s your coat, girl? You’re going to catch a cold or something.” I guess Miss Cookie found my short-sleeve dress a strange choice for an unseasonably warm December morning in Ohio.

“I’m hot blooded, Miss Cookie. I can either wear my boots with short sleeves or I can wear my flip-flops with a sweater…today I chose the boots.”

“I don’t go anywhere without my coat,” she said. “The zipper’s busted and it’s a little smaller than it used to be, but you never know when you’re going to need your coat. What does your husband say, you going out with no coat on?”

I laughed. If only she knew Frankie was just as hot-blooded as I am…maybe even more so. He sleeps with two fans on: one box fan for direct ventilation and one oscillating fan for overall air movement. Our thermostat is set at a chilly 60 degrees all year round, and I usually tell guests to bring a blanket or a sweater.

“We like the cold,” I replied. “And besides, we’re built for this weather.”

We chatted about the weather, then about my dog, and then about her daughter who passed away earlier this year. Each turn in the conversation got a little deeper, more substantial, more vulnerable.

“I bet you love having a dog. Is she a good girl? Is she big? I want to get me a dog…a small one that will sit on my lap. I get really lonely sometimes.”

Christmas Story Part Seven

Walking into the church with Miss Cookie was bittersweet. I worked there for so many years, a vital part of the hustle and bustle that makes a church that size function, and to walk in now as a “civilian” stung a little more than I was prepared for. I love where I am at in my life, and I’m thankful for my years there in the office…but there’s a difference now…there’s a distance. There’s a velvet rope I can’t pass. There’s an inner-sanctum I no longer have access to. There’s literally a door I can’t walk through. I allowed myself to feel that sting for just a few moments, holding back tears.

“Where are we supposed to go, girl?” Miss Cookie snapped me back to the present, and I motioned to the check-in table.

After 12 years, this outreach event was a well-oiled machine of Christmas cheer. As we cycled through the different stations, including a continental breakfast, personal prayer time, and aisle after aisle of toy shopping, we were escorted and assisted by the kindest volunteers. It felt like a visit to the North Pole complete with hundreds of Santa’s helpers.

Miss Cookie made friends with everyone, including the young man who helped her wrap her gifts…or should I say, the young man Miss Cookie convinced to wrap her gifts for her. He had recently gotten married, and he and his wife were volunteering together. Miss Cookie asked to see their wedding pictures and as she grabbed his phone and started scrolling, she fawned over how beautiful his wife was and what cute kids they would have one day. She spoke such words of blessing over this young couple. They thought they were coming to give, not knowing they would be the ones receiving.

Christmas Story Part Eight

“G, come show Miss Susan your tree! And put these presents under there,” she called downstairs and Giovanni came running.

He looked at me inquisitively, “You again?”

“Yep, it’s me, again.” I handed him the presents, which he gently arranged under the Christmas tree. “Are you getting excited for Christmas? Your tree looks really good.” I reached out my hand for a fist bump of acknowledgment.

He bumped my knuckles, turned, and ran downstairs to his play room without a word. He is notoriously shy but always willing to give a fist bump of friendship to the strange lady who keeps coming over.

“He did that all by himself, you know,” Miss Cookie motions to the tree. “He was so proud when he put that up. But now he’s eaten half the candy canes.”

“That’s great,” I said. “I love it! I bet he’s gonna have the biggest smile on Christmas morning when he gets to open his presents!”

“He sure is. You should come over on Christmas…”

Christmas Story Part Nine

I spend most of my days working from my home office. It can get lonely, at times, so when I got a text from my high school bestie Beth, I took the opportunity to play hookie from work and spend the afternoon with her. We like to joke that she’s the country mouse and I am the city mouse. She lives as close to the middle of nowhere as I can imagine, while I’m nestled in the heart of it all. We don’t get to spend as much time as we like together, so when these moments avail themselves, we take full advantage.

We had some time to kill before her appointment, so we stopped in to do a little Christmas shopping. We took turns updating each other on our lives, and the conversation inevitably turned to Miss Cookie and the impact she was having on me and my faith.

It’s been a hard year for us…financially, physically, and mentally… I’ve spent more than a little bit of my time asking God why life has to be so hard. I’ve been asking Him to show me the purpose behind the pain…asking Him for just a glimpse of His plan…asking for something to help me keep going.

And in that moment, standing there in the aisle with my best friend, I had an epiphany…

“You know, if it hadn’t have been for that stupid deer, I never would’ve met Miss Cookie.”

It was on my last trip to visit Bethie out in the sticks that I hit the deer that wrecked my car that tweaked my neck that led me to the chiropractor where I met Miss Cookie in the first place.

And then I saw the red coat…

Christmas Story Part Ten

When I saw the red coat, I knew it was meant for Miss Cookie. It was long and thick, made with the most beautiful deep red fabric complete with a faux fur lined hood, absolutely perfect for a woman as bold and fabulous as Miss Cookie. If I needed a sign, this was it: the trifecta of perfection… it was the only one in the store, it was the perfect size, and it was insanely marked down.

All of my trepidation and anxiety about inserting ourselves into Miss Cookie and Giovanni’s Christmas evaporated. Just like that, I couldn’t wait to spend Christmas morning with the newly-adopted members of my family. Frankie, Jeffery, and I went over to Miss Cookie’s house first thing…we didn’t even open our presents. I just wanted to see her face when she saw this coat and Gio’s face when he opened his presents!

We walked up the steps to the front door, and I held Miss Cookie’s coat in my hands. I tried to wrap it a few times, but it was so big that it kept ripping through.

“I see you finally brought a coat,” she teased.

“Actually, this is your coat, Miss Cookie.”

“What?! How did you know?”

“I saw you struggling with your zipper, so I thought you deserved a new coat. It’s no big deal. Just a small thing to make you smile.”

“No,” she said. “How did you know I wanted a red coat? Who’ve you been talking to?”

“Just the Man upstairs,” I pointed heavenward. “Are you serious, though? You wanted a red coat?”

“I told my family that all I wanted for Christmas was a red coat. And they all said they couldn’t find me one. Where did you get it?!”

“Miss Cookie, I think God had this coat on reserve for you. It was the last one in the store…there wasn’t anything else like it. And it was the perfect size! It was just meant to be.”