side of this particular story. Darkness is part of life, but how fortunate we are to know a God who can bring joy out of sorrow. Izzy is the wonderful blessing that emerges from the pain of Gabby’s past.
If you felt there was a little extra emotion in the portrayal of the senior dog Bundi, you are right. Bundi is modeled on my sister’s dog. She’s fifteen years old and needs a little extra help navigating the world these days, but she still loves biscuits, belly rubs and everyone she meets. We could all learn a thing or two from Bundi!
Wishing you a very happy Christmas,
Lee
For I will turn their mourning into joy.
—Jeremiah 31:13
To Dana R. Lynn and Rachel Dylan
Contents
Note to Readers
“I’m not working for Reese.” Gabby Hanks shook her head as she put the dinner tray she’d prepared beside her grandmother’s bed. “No. Uh-uh. No way.”
Nana shifted Gabby’s nine-month-old daughter, who’d started to fuss, in her arms and clucked her tongue, and little Izzy’s frown turned into a smile. One that matched Nana’s persuasive smile all too well, despite the seventy-five-year age gap between them. “I’m making you a good offer. A place to stay, free childcare and a job that’s right across the backyard. Which would be a real convenience, considering that heap of junk you’re driving.”
Despite her grandmother’s brusque tone, Gabby heard what Nana wasn’t saying: she herself needed help, even though she was too proud to ask for it. A bad case of the flu had left her weak and shaky. She shouldn’t be alone right now. “We can stay here for a few weeks, until Christmas,” Gabby said.
“And you can help Reese until Christmas, or at least interview for a position there,” Nana said. “I happen to know he needs seasonal help.”
“Nana. Why would an after-school program for at-risk kids need seasonal help?” Gabby pulled a second threadbare blanket over her grandmother’s legs and looked anxiously out the window at the low-hanging clouds. The northern-Ohio wind whistled through the old, poorly insulated house.
“Because those kids’ needs don’t just go away when school lets out for Christmas break,” Nana said. “Reese has an overload of boys whose parents work long hours and can’t supervise them, so the church board is sponsoring his Christmas Camp.” She picked up a piece of toast and bit off a tiny corner. “Thank you for fixing me dinner, honey. It’s real good.”
“You need to eat more.” Her grandmother was way skinnier than she should be, and Gabby’s heart constricted with guilt. Yes, she’d had to take a job on the other side of the state to pay her and Izzy’s bills, but she should have visited more often.
A moot point now. She’d lost the job because of missing too much work; a single mom didn’t have much choice when her baby was sick and she had no friends or relatives in town.
Nana’s casual revelation that she wasn’t feeling too well and “wouldn’t mind a visit” had come as a blessing. Now it looked like the blessing went both ways.
“Anyway,”
