Pawpaw’s Oh-So-Lonely Christmas

The thing about miracles — they rarely ask permission

Lonely Christmas

Oh this is so sad!

It was one week before Christmas, and Pawpaw was in his little house. The world outside sparkled with holiday lights and music, but inside, Pawpaw’s was all but forgotten. And yet, sparks of Hope and then some were always there deep in his heart.

And he believed.

Pawpaw sat in his quiet little room,
which was far too quiet for the Christmas season —
the kind of quiet that makes even the clock
clear its throat now and then.

But a Christmas angel overheard the cries of the quiet.
She cradled each one with care, took them to Heaven's gardens, and gently planted them in Hope
Watering them with Pawpaw's love and tears saying, "Bless them, bless them good!"

And three precious tiny miracles began to grow.
Each one toward the Light of Faith through Grace.

Now it just so happened that from a rose‑colored glow at the edge of Heaven protruded two tiny, exuberant feet — feet far too full of Christmas excitement. And wouldn’t you know it? They were attached to little Rosie!

Rosie had just finished coloring a‑lot‑teen Christmas decorations rosy-pink, when her oldest sister Gracie declared that was “enough and too many.”

So, Rosie decided she would color Christmas hymns and carols besides. But first she must peek in on Pawpaw!
Cheery little Rosie leaned over the Edge of Forever to look far, far down to the Earth below.

And there was their beloved Pawpaw. He sat so quiet, in the dim little house, all alone and with no others. No visitors. No laughter. No warmth except the spark of hope in his heart. And Rosie’s always-smile faded.

When Gracie saw Rosie looking down with such concern, she decided also to look. And seeing Pawpaw, Gracie’s smile faded.

Luna twirled in a bright new way — a special whirl and a twirl and then again that she’d practiced just for them. But her sisters hardly noticed.
She spun around them like the “ballernina” she imagined herself to be and asked, “Why hide you your smiles from me?”

Rosie pointed with her hearts concerned, “Look! It Pawpaw!”

Gracies said softfully, “Christmas is coming…”

Rosie smiled, “Mary Christmas?”

Gracie gently, “Not Mary Christmas, Jesus’ birthday Christmas.”

Luna and Rosie perked up, peering down at Pawpaw’s lonely room.

Rosie whispered, “Pawpaw need us.”

Luna nodded. “She’s right. Pawpaw needs us. Let’s go and right now!”

Gracie hesitated. “But… it doesn’t work that way. We can’t just go down to earth. Unless…”

Gracie and Luna’s halos snapped upward in hope.
“…unless it’s an emergency.”

Rosie stomped her tiny foot. “This is EMERGENCY! He need us, NOW.” She then said softy, “He need smiles.”

“What we need is permission,” said Gracie.

While the three little do‑gooders hurried off on their “mission for permission,” three obnoxious little devils — Loneliness, Emptiness, and Cold — crept up to Pawpaw’s house. Because that’s what they yearn to do, especially to begrime, befoul, and particularly to bedraggle any holiday.

They are sneaky-quiet sullied besmirchers that always arrive uninvited, unwelcomed, and specifically uncombobulated. They are like itches between the stitches in britches — the kind you can’t quite reaches.

Oh no! Who will tell Gracie, Luna, and Rosie? This is oh so not good! And maybe again!

The Mission for Permission

So the three little cherubs were now on a mission, a mission for permission. They hurried through heaven full of must and doing.

But the nanny angels were far too busy—Christmas was their busiest season.

“Let’s ask Raphael!” Luna suggested.

Gracie shook her head. “Oh no, he’s got so much to do this time of year.” Gracie was the oldest — all of six cloud‑years old — and she knew about such things.

“I know! Let’s ask Jesus’ mommy!” said Luna.

Rosie chimed, “Mary Christmas!”

Gracie sighed. “Everyone is asking Grandma Mary for everything right now.”

Rosie drooped. “That no good.”

Gracie whispered, “We probably shouldn’t sneak down. Being the way we are… we can’t help but be good.”

Luna giggled. “Really, really good.”

Then Gracie’s eyes lit. “Let’s ask Jesus!”

Luna beamed, “Jesus is never too busy!”

Rosie clapped, “Cause Jesus wuvs us!”

“Yes, Rosie,” Gracie said gently. “He does. No matter how small, He loves us all.”

Rosie puffed her chest proudly. “Then He wuvs me bestest because I’s smallest!”

Gifts for Jesus

Gracie took a deep breath. “Let’s give our bestest to Jesus!” Her sisters enthusiastically nodded, and full of must do, decided to give their very best to Jesus — and then some more.

Gracie sang her very best song for Jesus — clear, bright, and full of faith.
Luna danced her best for Him — spinning, twirling, glowing in moonbeams — her softest, most careful dance wrapped in the silver moonlight.
So Rosie… well, Rosie wasn’t a singer or a dancer. Her lip trembled.

“But what can I do for Jesus?” she whispered.

Gracie knelt beside her. “Smile, Rosie. No one can smile betterer than you.”

Rosie sniffed, stood tall for one so small, and then gave her brightest, bravest smile.
But then she fell to her knees.
Rosie prayed, “Mr. Jesus, Kindest of all… please give Pawpaw smiles. I give him my smile. Please, Mr. Jesus, give Pawpaw my smiles.”

Gracie knelt too. “Jesus, Beauty of God, please give Pawpaw my happiness for Christmas.”

Luna hesitated, then knelt as well. “Jesus… please give Pawpaw my dancing for joyings.”

Rosie cried, “Wuv! Please give Pawpaw wuv!”
Gracie whispered, “Give love, oh please Mr. Jesus, to our dear Pawpaw.”
Luna cried, “Oh precious Lord of Love, please give our loves to our dear Pawpaw.”

Three Little Angels Praying for their Pawpaw

Heaven Answers

A beam of the sweetest, warmest light poured down on the three little angels.

A gentle voice spoke:
“Fear not, little ones. I will send my smiles, pure joy, and warm comfort to your dear Pawpaw.
For I will send him Heaven’s Precious Treasures: Gracie, Luna, and Rosie.
Gracie with her faith, Luna with her hope, and little Rosie with all of my love.”
Then the hand of everlasting compassion lifted the three faithful cherubs and set them gently on Pawpaw’s roof.

Pawpaws Little Angels on His Roof

A Christmas Surprise

Now Pawpaw wasn’t expecting visitors, of course.
He never expected visitors, and visitors never expected him.

So he was sitting all alone in his dim room when suddenly there was a commotion on the roof! The windows lit up — golden, blue, and pink.

Then—
Gracie burst in, glowing in gold. “Pawpaw!”
Luna twirled in, wrapped in blue moonbeams. “Pawpaw!”
Rosie glowed like the first flower of spring. “Pawpaw!”
All together: “Merry Christmas Pawpaw!”

Pawpaw’s eyes filled with tears of joy. “Why… it’s my little grand-joys! Fresh from Heaven, full of light and glory!”

The three angels giggled and snuggled close.
Gracie whispered, “Thank you, Mr. Jesus.”
Luna echoed, “Thank you, Jesus.”
Rosie added, “Thank you, baby Jesus!”

The Neighbors Wonder

The neighbors whispered:
“Why is that old man so full of joy?” “Why is his house glowing?” “Why is there music and laughter?”

But Gracie heard past the whispers, into the hearts of those in which the spirit of Christ’s birth lives. She heard songs of praise, prayers of compassion, gifts beyond riches — gifts of grace and mercy and forgiveness.

All week, Pawpaw’s house overflowed with happiness.

But secretly, Gracie was up to something.

Down to Something

When Loneliness, Emptiness, and Cold saw the hand of Heaven, they fled so fast they tripped over each other’s tails and tumbled into bewilderment with great conviction.

It took them three whole days to find their nerve — and a compulsory directive from below — before the lurkers of mayhem dared approach Pawpaw’s house again.

Peering in with spite, the villainous miscreants pondered their contemplations.

Loneliness bemoaned, “Why so many gracings and blessings besides? Who would have imagined cherubs such a hazard?”

Emptiness bewailed, “It’s not the tiny messagers nor their messages I fear… it’s the attention of Heaven on them — that's far too dear.”

Cold belamented: “A strategic scheme we must plan with all due resolvedness!”

Loneliness mourned: “One with cheap, dirty, mean, disgusting nastinesses!”

Back there, Cold scratched his derriere.

Loneliness, Emptiness, and Cold

Loneliness sorrowed: “If only we could shoo and dishevel those wretched angels from above — make them flee and desert their love!”

Emptiness abandoned: “Then we could incursion upon Pawpaw what we will and how we do!”

Cold disrupted with a frigid, Arctician smirk: “I wouldn't bother except to bother again we are remanded, demanded, and commanded. And to be candid, the worth of it is to be branded bone-chillingly backhanded.”

The self‑bemused bedevilers chortled and cackled and tittered themselves silly with the presumptions of their pending puerilish, fiendish atrocities.

Incidentally, a mysterious wind from above did harass, knocking the nasty little sasses on their collective no-shows.

The Untouchedables Arrive

The next day was Christmas Eve, and on this day Pawpaw awoke to the most precious sound — for thousands, maybe millions, of tiny voices were singing Christmas carols with much exuberance.

Gracie reached out to touch his eyes so that he might see, but Pawpaw’s eyes — being full of faith — already saw them.

Little cherubs. So many of them.
Gracie had called her friends — the Untouchedables — the children who went to heaven before ever being held, whom the Lord Himself declared forever untouchable by anything evil, clothed eternally in His love.

They filled Pawpaw’s room with blessed joy, millions of iridescent, glittering sparkles, the hope of every child.

And altogether, the cherubs in unison, their halos shining like morning stars, “Merry Christmas, Pawpaw!”

And for the first time in many seasons, Pawpaw knew that no darkness could touch the warmth inside his heart — a heart now overflowing with the laughter, love, and joy of heaven itself.

In that moment, his girls realized that even in solitude, Pawpaw was never truly alone, for God’s love had gathered an army of tiny, faithful hearts to watch over him.

And so, with the music of angels ringing in his ears and the glow of divine love filling his home, Pawpaw smiled, hugged his little grandjoys, and whispered a prayer of thanks — for Christmas, for family, for faith, and for the miraculous power of a joyful heart.

Then the Untouchedables gave to Pawpaw their present:
Woven daisies, sunflowers, yellow tulips, peonies, gerbera daisies, marigolds, lavender, cherry blossoms, hydrangeas, sweet peas, freesias, plumerias, zinnias, pink camellias, and jasmine — all carrying meanings of joy, warmth, hope, affection, serenity, gratitude, and gentle love.

This was his “adoption papers,” not written with ink, but woven with heart and care. For not a one of them could read, nor write, but they could love.

Gracie shone, Luna beamed, and Rosie smiled, and together they changed the tapestry of flowers so that it read, “Our Pawpaw.” So now the Untouchedables had their own new Honorary Pawpaw.

From inside his warm little room, Pawpaw watched the flurry of colors and lights dancing across the ceiling. His heart swelled with joy as the laughter of Gracie, Luna, and Rosie — the angels of Faith, Hope, and Love — mingled with the tiny voices of the Untouchedables filling the skies.

Outside, peering in through Pawpaw’s windows, were those sneaky little devils Loneliness, Emptiness, and Cold.

But thousands of tiny snowballs pelted them at every angle — even the ones we don’t know about yet — and from every angel, until they retreated defeated, buried beneath an avalanche of snowballs, giggles, and light.

Also, there might have been some additional ingredients in some of those snowballs, for they would have a literal Dickens of a time getting it out of their hair.

Curiously, a little cherub sneezed: “Bubble gum.”

The Untouchedables in the Night Sky

Loneliness, Emptiness, and Cold

Loneliness, Emptiness, and Cold huddled together, shivering. Every time they came near Pawpaw’s house, they were picked up and tossed away — landing this time on their individual and thoroughly distinguished no‑shows — by a rather sizable, eager, and rambunctiously enthusiastic troop of tiny, gleeful cherubs.

Emptiness rubbed his pockets. “Why do we even try?”

Loneliness groaned. “Why’d we get the alonenest prophet of all? We didn’t stand a chance.”

Cold muttered, “At least it’s cold out here.”

Emptiness grrred. “But it’s warm inside. Where it counts.”

Loneliness nodded. “Warm inside that heart of his.”

Cold grumbled. “And don’t I know it. I’ve tried for years.”

Loneliness trembled. “Let’s go somewhere — anywhere — where they don’t know our weaknesses.”

Cold agreed. “Let’s find so‑called Christians. Plenty of those about and around.”

Before they could all do their worst maniacal laughings, myriads of snowballs hit them in the general locality of their delicate tail‑ends — each snowball courtesy of a bright and delightful cherub with the expectation of the spirit of Christmas joy and amiability.

Together the little devils yelped, “Let’s go somehwere so not of here!” and ran off as if for their very lives, leaving behind their cantankerous pride.

They could not sit comfortably on their bruised egos until long after Christmas. And their associates never let them forget the night they were routed by precious glee, copious tittering, and sweet little innocenting cherubs.

Then Came Together-Christmas

So Pawpaw’s oh‑so‑lonely Christmas became the happiest together‑Christmas — the Christmas when Heaven came near, the Christmas when Christmas was truly here.

The very next morning, just outside Pawpaw’s bedroom window, a trail of glimmering footprints led to a sign, then continued on and vanished with mirth. And wouldn’t you know it? The sign read, “Christmas Lives Here.”

And so it did.

Aunt Bee Pays a Visit

Now that should be the end, but Aunt Bee decided it shouldn't. So she floated down from her kitchen above the clouds later that day, carrying surely goodnesses and mercies for Pawpaw. She presented him baskets of heavenly cinnamon rolls, hors d'oeuvres, and other deserves — even if he didn't.

She took one look at Pawpaw’s glowing windows, the glittering footprints, the sign that read "Christmas Lives Here," and she just smiled.

“Well now,” she said, brushing snow from her coat, “looks like you done had yourself three whole miracles last night.”

Pawpaw blinked. “Three miracles?”

Aunt Bee nodded toward the ceiling, where a few stray celestial sparkles still drifted like sleepy snowflakes.

“As someone once said, ‘No use secrets a-hiding, for in Heaven we’re abiding’ — especially from Heaven’s porch swing where I’m a-guiding.”

Pawpaw’s eyes filled with tears — not sad ones, mind you, but the softest kind of joy a heart can make.

Aunt Bee patted his hand. “The spirit of Christmas lives here, Pawpaw. Always has. Always will.”

Aunt Bee to us all:
“Now some say Pawpaw received three miracles that Christmas season: Faith, Hope, and Love. And they might even insist it was simply Gracie, Luna, and Rosie. And a few wise hearts whisper that it was Protection, Family, and Love driving away fear.

“But as for me, I know the three miracles were but one: the spirit of Presence, the spirit of Belonging, and the spirit of Love. And that is true, both for me and for you.”

But Pawpaw knew the truth:
“The Lord is good to those who wait for him…”

Aunt Bee softly smiled.
“And you, Pawpaw, waited a long, very long time.”

Pawpaws Little Christmas Angels