HOMELESSNESS

A Christmas Star

However little you have, there’s always something you can give

One Christmas Eve, my seventeen-year-old son called me from the bakery where he worked part-time. He was on the evening shift with a couple of co-workers, and the store was about to close. The person scheduled to pick up the leftover bread and pastries to be donated to a local charity had not shown up.

My son was worried about what to do with the food, so I suggested he call the manager to ask for advice. The manager told him to throw the leftovers — approximately $1500.00 worth of bread and pastries, into the garbage.

It seemed utterly wrong for all of this good food to go to waste, so we talked about where we could take it. A new homeless shelter had just opened in our area, so I called and asked if they could use a delivery of free baked goods. An excited staff member said, “Yes, please!”

I drove to the bakery, and together with my son and his co-workers, we loaded up the van and made our way to the homeless shelter. As we walked towards the entrance, a woman stopped and held open the door for us. Assuming we were staff, she thanked us for what we were doing and said she was really grateful for her new temporary home.

She introduced herself and told us her street friends call her “Star.” We chatted briefly on the sidewalk with light snow falling around us. She said moving off the streets into the shelter had saved her life.

Star pulled a bottle of methadone out of her pocket and explained she was desperately trying to quit heroin. She told us she’d decided her job in life was to help and protect people. She spent her days looking out for those who needed help and trying to do kind things for others whenever possible.

I glanced at my son as he stood patiently listening to Star. He had the kindest expression in his eyes. My heart filled with love for him and for the brave soul we were with.

Then Star asked for a favour. She showed us a small bible a friend had given her while living on the streets. His phone number was written on the inside. She’d wanted to tell him she was OK so he wouldn’t worry, but she couldn’t afford the long-distance call.

I said I would be happy to pass on her message. She wrote his name on a scrap of cardboard from one of the boxes of cinnamon rolls we’d given her. Then she hugged us both, and we wished each other a merry Christmas.

Later that evening, my husband and I were chatting with our kids and sharing our favourite Christmas memories. We laughed about one unusual Christmas we’d celebrated on the beach in Australia with a cardboard cutout Christmas tree and fruit salad lunch.

I told my kids they’d have a Christmas that was really special one day — one they’d remember forever. My son said, “I think I’ve just had that Christmas, Mom.”

Meeting Star on Christmas Eve outside the homeless shelter, with the snow falling, was more than a little magical. My son and I will always remember that evening.

On Christmas morning, I called the number on the card, and a man answered the phone. I told him who I was and that I had a message for him from Star. His voice cracked with emotion as he thanked me for calling. He’d been distraught and was relieved to hear she was safe in the shelter.

A few months later, I was driving to a meeting. I saw a woman standing in the middle of the crosswalk with her arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on her face — it was Star.

She was standing between the cars and an older woman with a walking stick, making her way slowly across the road. As soon as the woman had crossed the road safely, Star carried on her way. I smiled as I drove to my meeting, thinking about our neighbourhood, “Star” doing her job.

Bless you, Star. I hope you are safe and warm this Christmas. I hope we meet again so I can thank you for showing me the true meaning of Christmas. However little you have, there is always something you can give: your time, your kindness, and your smile.

Gill McCulloch, December 2020

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