The King's Own

By Kristine K.

 

“And let us not grow
weary of doing good,
for in due season we
will reap, if we do
not give up. So then,
as we have opportunity,
let us do good to everyone,
and especially to those
who are of the household
of faith."
Galatians 6:9-10

paused and winced. The velvet voice of Johnny Mathis pierced the nippy night air. His lyrics stung my heart as involuntary tears splashed my face:

"I'll be home for Christmas You can count on me
There'll be snow and mistletoe
And presents under the tree..."

Did Johnny know he was singing to a homeless person? Barely settled in a new state and still relative strangers, Christmas 2002 found us over 1,000 miles away from family and good friends--unemployed, flat broke, and homeless.

Sniffling, I mumbled to the King of Christmas, "How can You possibly pull off Christmas this year? What will You do? Who can You use?"

Our odyssey began in June 2002. A missionary family owned the house we were renting, in California. Their overseas assignment was complete, so they returned to the States to reoccupy their home, which meant we had to move.

Unable to afford the Southern California housing market, we moved to Texas at the invitation of old friends. They invited us to live with them "until Chris finds work and you can get your own place."

With housing secured and glowing reports of booming job markets in Texas, my husband, Chris, and I uprooted our four young boys, ages 11 to 3, and moved 1,700 miles east. Our expectations crashed with a thud when our friends abruptly withdrew their housing offer 10 weeks later.

It had taken every cent we had to finance our move to Texas. What were we going to do NOW? Where could we go? HOW? We had no job yet and no income. Now we had no home.

On a long shot, Chris phoned his estranged brother in another state and outlined our predicament. They offered their home to us. It was also the ONLY door that opened. And we were out of options.

Scraping together money from friends and family, we packed up kit and caboodle and left Texas at 1:00 a.m. on September 6. Seven states, eight days and about 2,300 miles later, we arrived at our new "home."

Road weary, disoriented and exhausted, my four boys tumbled into an empty bedroom in the Northwest. The boys collapsed on the floor and slept for 14 hours. We were all thankful for a roof over our heads, even if it wasn't ours.

Two cross-country moves in three months wiped out our bank account and wreaked havoc with Chris's job search efforts. So did resettling in a new state with soaring unemployment rates and a local economy in the tank. Jobs were scarce to nonexistent.

With Christmas just around the corner money was tight, bills piled high and hope was a snickering stranger. Christmas was out of the question. My boys eagerly anticipated the holiday, but I dreaded the approach of December.

I put off flipping the calendar as long as I could. By the second week in December, however, I knew what I had to do.

My oldest son hid his disappointment behind a painful grimace as I explained, "Dad and I can't buy anything for Christmas this year. We would if we could. But there's no money." I sighed, trying to gently lower his 11 year-old expectations. I don't know who was more frustrated or dejected--Daniel or me.

Sniffles and wet eyes came from Nathan, age 10, as he grappled with the grim reality of too much month at the end of the money--even at Christmas. Sammy, age 7, blinked back tears as Josiah, age three, was perhaps too young to fully understand.

It was more than I could bear. I comforted my boys as best I could, then dashed outside into the frosty backyard and poured out my heart to the King of Christmas.

"Lord, You have always provided for our needs. I know that Christmas gifts aren't exactly a `need,' but I'm not asking for myself. I'm just asking You to please, PLEASE find some way to supply Christmas for my boys. You're all we have."

It was true. God had taken care of us in the past. But this year was different. What would He do now?

The doorbell rang on December 21. I opened the door to four middle-aged ladies. Decked out in red Santa caps, seasonal sweaters and jingle bells, they were wreathed in smiles. Odd. The ladies didn't look like angels. In fact, there was nary a robe nor a harp between them. Not even a rusty halo.

"Kristine?" a silver-haired grandma type inquired. I nodded tentatively, not recognizing a soul.

"We're from TOPS (Take Off Pounds Sensibly)" Pat began, indicating her grinning companions. "JoAnne is one of our members. She played her guitar at your church last week. She met you in the kitchen and heard your story.”

“We planned on adopting just one family this Christmas, but our members gave so generously that we had enough gifts for two families. We didn't know who else to choose until JoAnne mentioned you," Pat explained, blue eyes twinkling. "So we brought over a few things for you and your boys. Hope you don't mind."

I opened the door, speechless.

"A few things" turned out to be enough gift-wrapped presents to outfit the entire Third Army. Ditto the new clothes, Wal-Mart gift cards, school supplies, and winter gear. Not to mention enough groceries to feed a small country--or four growing boys. The TOPS ladies also brought four felt stockings bulging with age-appropriate gifts for each of my babies.

Squeals of delight pierced the living room on Christmas morning. "Can we fix it? Yes we can!" Josiah chanted, prancing around the house with his new Bob the Builder toys. Daniel dashed outside to dribble his new basketball. Nathan tossed his new football to Sammy, who was deeply engrossed in his latest Lite Brite magnus opus.

Knee-deep in Christmas wrapping, tinsel, 10 boxes of gifts and eight bags of food, I sank to my knees in wordless thanks. Like a cup of cool water in a parched and tattered land, the kindness and generosity of total strangers revived our thirsty souls, transforming a bleak winter day into a raucous, dazzling celebration.

Like Johnny, we may have been home "If only in our dreams." But God answered my feeble prayer and showed me that "Home" is more attitude than address as He fulfilled my Christmas dream through total strangers.

I now know that "The Homeless" occupy a special place in His heart. Why? Maybe it's because the King of Christmas knows what it's like to be displaced. After all, He was Homeless once, too.