The smell was almost unbearable. The putrid stench invaded her senses, almost overpowering her. Within the cramped darkness, Shayla discovered the presence of something lifeless, a grim reminder of the harsh realities surrounding her. Despite the urge to hurl, Shayla mustered her inner strength and carefully maneuvered her body deeper into the smelly garbage heap, seeking solace from the outside world.
As her tears mingled with the warm saltiness on her cheeks, Shayla clung to her determination. With each passing moment, she held her breath, straining to hear the angry voices mere feet away. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, yet Shayla remained resilient.
After what felt like an eternity, Shayla emerged from the depths of the dumpster, her heart filled with a renewed sense of purpose. Without hesitation, she ran towards the only haven offering her solace and security – Loaves and Fishes, where her weary soul found respite amidst the chaos of life.
“Hi, Mrs. Sheila,” Shayla exclaimed with a hint of relief as she stepped into the expansive dining facility. Her eyes scanned the room, seeking comfort and a momentary escape from the tumultuous world outside.
Mrs. Sheila, ever perceptive, greeted Shayla with genuine warmth despite the visible signs of distress. “Well, hello, Shayla. I can see today hasn’t been kind to you,” she said compassionately, her concern evident in her tone and expression.
Shayla nodded, her voice tinged with weariness and apprehension. “Yeah, Tony and his boys are still on my tail, but I’m managing. I know these streets all too well,” she shared, her gaze shifting nervously to every corner of the room. The dining facility was beautifully decorated for Christmas as the staff and volunteers moved about, singing holiday tunes blaring from a portable radio.
Mrs. Sheila’s face softened as she reached out, placing a comforting hand on Shayla’s trembling shoulder. “You’re not alone, my dear, you’re not alone.
Shayla made her way to one of the tables in the room. As she approached her chosen table, she noticed a middle-aged woman sitting quietly, reading a small book. The woman looked up with a broad, kind grin and smiled as she sat down. A bun on her head loosely held her salt and pepper hair, and her clothes appeared worn and tattered.
“Hi, how are you? My name’s Hope.” She leaned forward, extending a frail, soft hand.
Shayla took a deep breath, gathering the courage to engage in conversation with the woman named Hope. As she settled into her chair, she couldn’t help but notice the gentle presence of kindness that radiated from her new acquaintance. The middle-aged woman seemed to possess a wisdom that surpassed her years despite her humble appearance.
A mixture of apprehension and curiosity filled Shayla’s heart as she gingerly reached out to shake Hope’s hand. “Hi, I’m Shayla,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes darted around the room as if seeking an escape route, still unfamiliar with the warmth and sincerity offered her.
Hope’s squinted smile widened, infusing the room with a glimmer of hope. “Have you been coming here long?” she asked, her genuine interest evident in her tone.
Shayla hesitated momentarily, reflecting on the journey that led her to this place of refuge. “About a year or so,” she confessed, her voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and pain. Memories of her tumultuous past flooded her mind, recalling the day she had run away from the Williams family, her temporary foster home.
She vividly remembered the facade of warmth and love that the Williams family’s home presented, only to discover the harsh reality of their treatment of her. Michael and Shelly Williams showered their biological son, David, with affection while subjecting Shayla to constant berating, neglect, and physical abuse.
Hope’s kind eyes met Shayla’s, understanding the unspoken sorrows that lay beneath the surface. Shayla felt a glimmer of comfort and acceptance at that moment, as if she’d found a confidante who truly cared.
As the minutes stretched into an hour and a half, Shayla found herself lost in the warmth of the conversation with Hope. Their genuine connection made her momentarily forget the harsh realities of her life. But as Mrs. Sheila’s voice rang out, announcing the impending closing time, Shayla jolted back to reality, realizing she needed to leave.
Feeling a mix of reluctance and gratitude, Shayla prepared to bid farewell to her newfound friend. However, before she could rise from her chair, Hope leaned forward, a glimmer of anticipation in her eyes. She held out a small red pamphlet, reaching it towards Shayla.
“Shayla, may I give you something?” Hope asked softly, her voice filled with earnestness. Intrigued, Shayla leaned forward, accepting the pamphlet with curiosity dancing in her eyes. As she read the title aloud, “Twas the Night,” confusion swept over her face.
“Isn’t this a children’s Christmas story?” Shayla exclaimed, her brow furrowed in bewilderment.
Hope’s gentle smile deepened as she began to explain, opening a doorway into a different understanding of the beloved tale. “Well, yes, it is, but not in the way you might expect,” she clarified with a serene tone.
“You see,” Hope began, her voice gentle and filled with conviction. “Even though ‘Twas the night before Christmas speaks of a family eagerly awaiting the imminent arrival of Santa Claus, there is an even greater arrival that will soon occur.”
Shayla’s eyes widened with curiosity and intrigue. “Who is arriving? Who’s coming?” she exclaimed, her voice filled with anticipation.
Hope smiled warmly, sensing Shayla’s eagerness to know more. “You just read the pamphlet tonight,” she said, gesturing towards the tract in Shayla’s hands. “And if you’re willing, we can meet here tomorrow, and I’ll tell you more about it.”
Shayla’s gaze shifted between the pamphlet and Hope, her heart fluttering excitedly. “Yes, I think I’d like that,” she admitted, peering at the tract with amazement.
Hope’s grin grew wider, her eyes shining with joy. “I’m glad,” she replied, her voice laced with genuine enthusiasm.
The next day, Loaves & Fishes was a flurry prepping for the upcoming Christmas Eve and Christmas Day meals. Volunteers scurried around, their hands busy with preparations to ensure those in need had a warm meal and a sense of love and belonging. Outside, Hope scanned the crowds that gathered in front of the building. She was eager to find Shayla, the young woman she had met just the night before. Hope’s eyes darted from face to face, hoping for a glimpse of her newfound friend.
But as minutes turned into an hour, Shayla was nowhere to be found. A sense of concern crept into Hope’s thoughts, and she closed her eyes, seeking solace in prayer. She whispered a fervent plea with every beat of her heart, asking for guidance and clarity. When she opened her eyes, a sense of assurance washed over her. She knew exactly where she needed to go. Without hesitation, she hurriedly walked through the bustling crowd, her steps guided by an unseen hand.
Hope’s heart raced with determination and concern as she maneuvered through the streets. She trusted that her path was divinely ordained, leading her to where she would find Shayla.
She rounded a corner and spotted a small park nestled amidst the cityscape. A hunch told her that she would discover Shayla there, waiting patiently for a sign of hope. Hope’s pace quickened, her anticipation mounting with each step.
And then, as though orchestrated by a higher power, Hope spotted the small frame of a young girl curled up on a park bench. Hope’s heart swelled with relief as she hurriedly approached her newfound friend. The sight of Shayla, beaten and bruised, tore at her soul. As she reached the bench and gently touched Shayla’s arm, Hope whispered, “Shayla, is that you?”
Shayla mustered a feeble smile through her pain, tears streaming down her battered face. The evidence of the violence inflicted upon her was evident, causing Hope’s heart to ache even more. She couldn’t bear to see her friend in such a state.
Tears welling up in her eyes, Hope reached out to comfort Shayla. “What happened to you?” she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.
With each labored breath, Shayla explained, “When you owe the wrong people money, they don’t take, “I don’t have it” kindly.” It was evident that Shayla was in a dire condition. Time was running out, but Hope was determined to bring comfort and peace in whatever way she could.
Hope’s comforting smile and warm touch provided a glimmer of solace amid Shayla’s pain. She nestled close to Shayla on the bench, offering love and support.
With tenderness, Hope asked, “So, did you read the pamphlet I gave you yesterday?”
A flicker of light danced in Shayla’s eyes as she responded, “Yes, I got through most of it before…” Her voice trailed off as she sobbed, the weight of her recent ordeal evident in her words. “Before they found me.”
Hope gently stroked Shayla’s hair and wiped away the tears that stained her face. “That’s okay,” she chided softly. “I’ll finish it with you now.” With a sense of purpose, Hope reached into her bag and pulled out the red pamphlet, its pages filled with the message of hope and redemption.
As Hope began to read, the words resonated in the air, carrying the promise of a love greater than any catastrophe or hardship.
“Twas the night of Christ’s coming, when all through the land, every heart was prepared, for the Savior’s great stand;
The world lay in slumber, unaware of the hour, But the faithful were watchful, attuned to His power.
When out of the heavens, a trumpet did sound, awakening the faithful from all around. In the twinkling of an eye, they were caught in the air, to meet their beloved Savior, beyond all compare.
As the moon bathed the earth in a soft, gentle glow, Believers ascended, their spirits aglow. With joy and anticipation, their hearts soared high, for in Christ’s presence, their redemption drew nigh.
He came with a shout, a voice like thunder, gathering His people, torn asunder. United in the heavens, they praised His name; with adoration and reverence, their souls aflame.
His voice, like a symphony, filled the expanse, Bringing peace, restoration, and another chance. He spoke of redemption, of salvation’s great plan, and how He would reign as King of all lands.
His eyes, how they sparkled, with compassion so deep, as He comforted those who had sown and did reap. His garments so radiant, as white as the snow, A symbol of purity, His righteousness to show.
In that glorious moment, as heaven met earth, The faithful rejoiced in their heavenly birth. For Christ had returned, just as He said, to gather His people, where no tears are shed.
So, on this hallowed eve, let us ponder and reflect on the precious gift of salvation we shouldn’t neglect. May hope fill our hearts, as we await His return, and may our lives reflect the love we must learn.
For those who remained, there was still time to choose, to accept Jesus’ love and be renewed. To embrace His grace, forgiveness, and light, and join Him in eternity, where all is made right.
Let us share the good news, far and wide, inviting others to journey by our side. For the night is not over, the dawn is not far, When Christ will return, and heaven’s gates unbar.
As we await his return, with patience and grace, let us share His good news, in every place. For the day will soon dawn when He appears once again, bringing hope, joy, and peace forever to His reign.”
As Hope finished reading, Shayla looked into her eyes, her gaze filled with longing and uncertainty. “Does Jesus know I’m here?” she asked, her voice trembling with vulnerability.
Hope’s reply was immediate and filled with unwavering faith. “Of course He does,” she softly assured Shayla. “He sees you, He knows your pain, and He is with you in every moment.”
Shayla’s expression reflected a mixture of doubt and anguish. “It doesn’t seem like He does,” she strained, fighting back tears. “My whole life has been a catastrophe.”
Tears welled up in Hope’s eyes as she took Shayla’s hands in hers. “Oh, my dear sweet Shayla,” she answered, her voice filled with compassion. “Jesus is not defined by our circumstances or the chaos of this world. The question for us is not where suffering comes from, but what we do with it. He’s the anchor in the storm, our source of peace and restoration.”
Hope’s words hung in the air, carrying a message of comfort and assurance. In that pivotal moment, Shayla’s question pierced the silence, “Will I be with Jesus when he comes?” Her breathing, now shallow, gasped for air.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Hope responded with compassion, her voice filled with warmth. “If you give your life to Jesus, you will be with Him.”
A glimmer of hope danced in Shayla’s eyes as she mustered a weak smile. “How do I do that?” she asked, her voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and longing.
With gentle patience, Hope explained, “Well, the Bible tells us that if we confess with our mouths that Jesus is Lord and believe in our hearts that God raised Him from the dead, we will be saved. If you’d like, I can lead you in a prayer where you can express your feelings to Jesus.”
Shayla looked at Hope, her eyes filled with a newfound determination, and nodded her head in agreement. With a tender smile, Hope took Shayla’s hand and began to pray, guiding her through each word.
“Dear Lord Jesus,” Hope began, her voice steady and filled with conviction, “I know that I’m a sinner, and I ask for Your forgiveness. I believe You died for my sins and rose from the dead. I turn from my sins and invite You to come into my heart and life. I want to trust and follow You as my Lord and Savior. Amen.”
As the final word echoed in the air, a sense of peace washed over Shayla. She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of her burdens lifted, replaced by a newfound hope and an assurance of eternal life with Jesus. As she drifted off, she took her last breath and awoke in the waiting bosom of her heavenly Father’s arms forever.
