He peered down at the pile of clothes. Several pairs of jeans, two – very worn. Ten short-sleeved t-shirts and four long-sleeved. Three pairs of tennis shoes, one pair of work boots, and one pair of cowboy boots. Twelve pairs of socks, the white no longer white and the black, a faded shade. Two baseball caps, one trapper hat, one warm knit beanie, and a hard hat. No dress shoes nor dress pants nor dress shirt. No tie.

He scratched under his jaw, then rummaged through the pile for his best jeans and least worn shirt. Dressed, he surveyed himself in the mirror and briefly closed his eyes before heading out.

How long had it been? Ten years? No – longer. Fifteen? Short of twenty anyway. But he’d made a promise to himself and determined to keep it.

God, he thought – was it a thought or a prayer? Why would the Almighty hear him, of all people? Whatever people thought of him, they didn’t know the half of it. He pressed on. God, I’m embarrassed. Is there some way you can make my clothes look better? More dignified? Or maybe make me invisible? (what was he saying!) Or make people blind to my presence? He didn’t think he’d ever seen a miracle or even believed they existed, but it would take one to answer his prayer. Please?

Church bells rang and he found himself in the sanctuary. Miracles? He looked around and thought maybe he could believe in them. A feeling of fire shot through him head to toe. No, this wasn’t a miracle, but an answer to prayer. For tonight, Christmas Eve, was a candlelight service. No one saw what he wore. Everyone saw only the dancing lights of the candle each held.

Only then did he see the best miracle: a Savior who allowed His own dignity to be replaced with swaddling cloths in a crude manger surrounded by animals and visiting shepherds. And something else invisible to all but some working men: angels.

Images: mike-ralph-0yIzvpbRFw8-unsplash.jpg; al-elmes-ZiCz-oW1LXA-unsplash.jpg