It was Christmas Eve in New York City. The icy wind-swept streets were filled with last minute shoppers. The snow as coming down in streaks of silver as if it was ordered to complete the magnific Ile show.
An old grey-haired man hobbled on his walking can with a tin cup asking for pocket change for a hot meal. He was extremely hungry for something to eat. He had been homeless for many years, but he still had warm, sweet memories of the past when his wife and his two daughters were still alive and alcohol had not yet destroyed his life and had not left him homeless. Now the cold, ice-covered streets were his home, and he felt little hope for the future. He remembered peeling oranges and eating apples by a blazing fireplace as he and his loving wife read the Christmas Story from the Bible’s sacred scriptures. The house was suddenly filled with joy and cheer all thru the special month of December and the glorious birth of the hold child was celebrated every December 25th in our little house.
Night was coming quickly and the old man went silently under the huge concrete bridge to spend Christmas Eve night. The wind was cold against his nose and face, but he longed to have some company as he fell asleep, although his feet were ice-cold. All through the night, Christmas Carols were constantly playing in his head from his boy-hood years. His spirit was engulfed by “O, Holy Night”, “Silent Night” and “Joy to the World”. He would embrace the true meaning of Christmas in his dreams with the birth of the Christ child.
Suddenly, he was awakened with a long, wet tongue on his surprised face. He was fully awake now, and a small red puppy was staring intently into his eyes. Then the lost puppy began to lick his face again. The old man lifter his ragged coat and the small puppy crawled inside the lining. They slept peacefully during the night, and a Christmas cookie would be given to the little puppy when morning came.
