THE NIGHT BEFORE THE NIGHT BEFORE

     I've not felt much Christmas spirit this year. It's happened before, but when it did, I was keenly aware of missing something. This year, it's been missing, and I just haven't given it any thought other than, "I can work with this!"
     I tell my younger friends, "Just wait 'til you're my age. You can forget shopping! You can let go of all the hype! You can even turn down requests to prepare meals. My guilt is gone!
     The shelter, however, is celebrating Christmas, and that's a good thing. Doug and Crazy were running a dozen big hams through the slicer when I arrived at 10:00. Doug's arm was running out of steam, but there were several big aluminum pans yet to fill. There was nothing for me to do but wait until I was needed. So I went to the pantry to put on my apron and when I turned around, Doug was there saying, "Miss Joy, thank you for coming. Thank you for coming back!"
     "Oh, Sweetie," I opened my arms and hugged him… "What's wrong?" 
    "I'm just missing my sister," he said.
      She died—just this week. I didn't know. That's the second sister he's lost in the few years I've known him. These people are not old!
     So Doug is very sad today, and he didn't hesitate to mention it from time to time. At some point, he and Crazy and I were talking about our own demises. Doug and I agree that we want no funeral, no box in the ground, no ashes sprinkled. "All I want," Doug said, "is that people will say I did something to make their lives better. That's all I want."
     About an hour later, an older gentleman came knocking at the back door. I looked through the kitchen with my usual curiosity and watched as Doug dealt with the man. Soon, Doug was telling me, "You know that older man who came to the door? He used to live here. Now he lives out of town, and he's doing great! He just came here today to thank me for all I did for him when he was here and to tell me how much I meant to him. He hugged me three times! Can you believe that? All I wanted was to make a difference in somebody's life, and there he was!"
     I know. Things happen like that. The best part is when we recognize them!
     Tomorrow is the big feast day. Doug's expecting 26 volunteers! He's not looking forward to squeezing that many folks into the tiny kitchen, and he's just a little miffed that they don't find time to help out on "regular days." Ain't it the truth? 
    For today's lunch, we served deep-fried chicken nuggets and French fries. I sliced oranges to put on the side and added a candy to each plate. The group has changed little. There's a woman in a wheelchair now, and the two youngsters remain, as well as the fancy lady. Otherwise, those dear people blend together indistinguishably. 
    Yes, Hottie was often in the kitchen. I had ample opportunity to look my heart out. God, that mostly-blond ponytail is a thing of beauty… and his eyes… enough crinkles to tell me he's not a child; enough gray hairs to give him a touch of wisdom. Oh, sigh. 
    Three other young men came by: Two of them once lived there but now work at the hotel across the street. They come every Sunday for a lunch plate and to shoot the breeze with Doug. Today, one of them was saying, "I weigh 236 pounds, and I…"
     That's when I interrupted their conversation. "You weigh 236 pounds? Trump says he weighs 236 pounds, but he's much taller than you, and he looks every bit as heavy. How is that?" We didn't fully understand how that is… but we all know a good laugh when we see one.
     The third fellow is the security guard. I'd met him on my first day back, but I'd forgotten. Again, it was something so beautiful to behold that my eyes became dilated. 
    When all the people left, Crazy, Doug and I rearranged the dining room and cleaned all the tables for tomorrow's feast. I smell like bleach, and that's okay. Come Christmas day, the feasting will be finished and Doug will NOT have to work—the first Christmas he's spent with his family in 7 years.
     Next week we can resume some normalcy. Hallelujah!