December 24 - Not Alone on Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve

December 24, 2025

Williamstown, MA

The weather forecast for Christmas Eve was for snow beginning at dusk, becoming heavy

at times and then tapering off by 9:00. The temperatures would be bitterly cold with strong gusty

winds up to 20 miles per hour ending by midnight.

Garrett hauled his laundry into the laundromat just as the snow started to fall. He looked

around. It was empty. He took off his jacket and hung it up. He pulled out a roll of quarters and

whatever spare change he had. He hoped it would be enough to get detergent, wash and dry his

clothes.

As he put his money in for detergent, he couldn’t help noting that it was ridiculously

expensive. “If I didn’t have to spend so much on food,” he muttered to himself, “I could buy it at

the store.” He dumped out his clothes, put them in a washer, inserted his quarters, and started the

machine.

Garrett sat down and scanned the magazines. Except for People magazine, none of them

interested him and, even then, People was a month old.

About ten minutes into the wash cycle, he heard a voice from the back corner, “Hey, who

does laundry on Christmas Eve?” Startled, Garrett looked around and saw a somewhat

disheveled man.

Garrett said, “I didn’t see you come in.”

“Well, I’ve been here for a while,” the stranger replied. That struck Garrett as strange

because he was sure no one was there when he arrived, and he would have felt a cold breeze if

the door had opened. Still, it didn’t matter to dispute it, the guy was already there.

The stranger approached him. Looking at him, Garrett figured he was in his early 30s. He

was thin and tall, but not exceptionally tall, maybe a bit under six feet. His beard looked like he

hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. He was carrying a backpack.

“I’m Manny,” he said as he held out his hand.

Garrett took his hand, “Garrett,” he replied. “I’m here for the same reason you are.”

“I don’t think so,” Manny said. “I’ve been on the road for the last nine hours. I stopped

here to take a break because the lights were on. Tough to find places open on Christmas Eve at

this hour, well except churches. But I don’t want to go to church now. I have another four hours

to go before I get to my folks. I’ll join them at our family church. So, you didn’t answer my

question, why are you doing your laundry now?”

“I don’t feel especially Christmasy today,” Garrett answered. “I don’t know…. it’s

just….” He sighed, “My dad died unexpectedly just before Thanksgiving, and I’ve been in the

dumps since.”

“You have no other family? What about friends?”

“Manny, it’s been a brutal few months,” Garrett replied. Something about Manny’s

presence gave Garrett a feeling of comfort. Maybe because he didn’t look judgmental. Maybe

because he was a stranger who was leaving town anyway and wouldn’t be able to tell anyone in

town who might know him. He started telling his story.

“I got out of prison in mid-September having served a three-year sentence. I thought

getting out would be great because I’d be back with my girlfriend only to find out that while I

was in prison, she met someone and started a relationship. They seem pretty solid. She was kind

enough to let me store my stuff with her until I could find housing. I was lucky to land a

warehouse job and through that got a line on an apartment. I was able to move out of the shelter

at the beginning of November.”

Manny shook his head, “That’s a lot. I’m sorry about your dad. It’s good, though, that

you were able to get a job and an apartment.” He paused, “You have no other family?”

“I was married and have two kids. My wife left me twelve years ago and took the kids.”

Manny’ silence and countenance made clear his compassion for Garrett. He let the silence speak.

Garrett continued, “She couldn’t deal with my substance abuse, drugs and alcohol. We were

married for seven years. Looking back, though, I’m amazed she was able to manage that long. If

I wasn’t fighting or ranting, I was in a stupor. I was hardly a husband or a father. One day I woke

up and saw that they were gone. They left no message, no forwarding address. I called my

mother-in-law, who refused to tell me where they were and then told me never to call again.

Same thing with her other family members and her friends. I don’t blame them. I would have

done the same thing.

“I spent the next two years in and out of detox and rehab. I’m grateful for my VA benefit,

which helped. In a way it was the least I could expect for serving two tours in Afghanistan. What

I saw there shocked my conscience to the point where I became numb. What began as a noble

cause became a soulless job. My memories tormented me when I got home, which is when I

began to abuse.

“I’m still angry, especially now that our efforts came to nothing. The Taliban are back in

power. Meanwhile this administration wants to send the Afghans who helped us in that war back

to Afghanistan because one totally messed up guy shot someone. The Afghans helped us a lot. If

it weren’t for them, I probably wouldn’t be here now.”

Manny listened sympathetically. At times he nodded his head. “What about now?” he

asked. Garrett exhaled. “Prison turned out to be my salvation. I was able to get clean. I had long

conversations with the chaplain who reminded me often that I was a worthy person loved by God

despite everything and that since God loved me, I should love myself, too. She told me that when

I get out, I will be in my mid-forties, which would be enough years to build some semblance of a

decent life. She said ‘keep your options open. You have no option when you abuse.’ She gave me

some coping tools, which help me a lot because sometimes my dreams torment me.”

Manny quietly responded, “I’m sorry. Thank you for your service and thank you for

sharing what must be painful to tell.”

The snowstorm had become ferocious. Visibility was practically zero. Manny, looking at

the parking lot, “I guess I’m not going anywhere soon.” He thought for a bit. “Why don’t you

join me for dinner?”

Puzzled, Garrett looked at Manny, “Dinner? I’ve still got my laundry here and where will

we go?”

Manny opened his backpack. “I’ve got a couple of sandwiches, turkey and peanut butter

and jelly, your choice.”

“I can’t take them from you,” said Garrett.

“I insist. Besides, this is my dinner break, and I don’t want to eat alone. There’s no one

else here. So, you can’t say no.”

“OK. Since you insist. Do you mind if I take half the PB&J and half the turkey? This way

we’re eating the same meal.”

Manny smiled, “Great idea.” He unwrapped the sandwiches and split them. “Also, I have

some vegetable soup.” He took out a thermos with a couple of hot cups and plastic spoons. He

poured out the soup and pushed it over to Garrett. “Do you mind if we say grace?” Garrett

shrugged, “Sure, whatever.” “We give you thanks, O God,” Manny began. “for the bounty of this

meal. We are grateful for our friendship in this moment and your presence among us tonight. We

give thanks for Garrett’s sobriety. I pray for Garrett that options will open for him in the coming

year. Grant him patience and strength in this, his time of grief. We give thanks for love that came

down tonight. Amen.”

“Thanks,” Garrett said. “I’m grateful that you’re here. “Something about you, Manny. I

normally don’t tell people, even people I know, what I told you about the war. Just telling you,

though, and your quiet listening has been a gift. At least for tonight, it’s weight is off my

shoulders.”

“Hey! I got something else.” Manny took out another thermos and two more hot cups. He

poured hot cocoa into each. “And as an added bonus,” Manny produced two candy canes.

“swizzle sticks!”

Garrett laughed. He smiled and remembered, “I haven’t had hot cocoa and candy canes

since I was a kid. My mom gave it to us as a special treat after sledding,” he said with a

contented sigh. “You’re making me feel a little Christmasy now, Manny.”

They watched the snow fall as they ate. Much had already been said. They ate in silence

as they thought about what they shared.

After they finished, Manny got up and started to pack. “I got to hit the road. I still have

four or five hours left ahead of me.” The snow had barely tapered off.

Grateful for the company, Garrett smiled. “I get it. This has been great, but you have to

get going. I’ll do the dishes,” he laughed. “Have a safe trip, Manny. I don’t think you know how

much tonight meant to me.” Garrett wrapped him in a big bear hug.

Manny put on his coat, picked up his backpack. “Garrett, I’ll remember this night. It was

special for me, too. When I light a candle tonight, I will hold you in prayer.” At that, Manny

walked out into the storm.

Garrett watched Manny disappear into the night. Garrett wondered, though, why he didn’t

see any car pull out of the parking lot.

Hours later, the snow continued to fall. However, it was gentle. The storm was over.

Garrett entered the church. His heart was still warm. He wasn’t a member and wasn’t looking for

much. All he really wanted to do was sing some carols.

Though he didn’t come for any Christmas message, the preacher’s homily grabbed his

attention. She spoke of angels as God’s messengers of peace, peace kept not by instruments of

violence and destruction. Rather, a peace sustained by love, God’s love, whose forgiveness

knows no bounds. When she said, “God squeezed himself into a tiny, defenseless baby ultimately

to lead an army; its weapons were kindness, generosity, compassion, and grace,” Garrett

suddenly saw Jesus in a new way. Towards the end, she read Christina Rosetti’s poem:

Love came down at Christmas,

Love all lovely, love divine;

Love was born at Christmas,

Star and angels gave the sign.

Worship we the Godhead,

Love incarnate, love divine;

Worship we our Jesus:

But wherewith for sacred sign?

Love shall be our token,

Love shall be yours and love be mine,

Love to God and to all men,

Love for plea and gift and sign.

She concluded her message saying, “Immanuel, God with us. Jesus has come. Amen.”

Tears filled Garrett’s eyes.