The week between Christmas and New Years is usually spent eating food that will add to your waistline, lounging in your pajamas, and planning New Year’s resolutions that you will probably never keep. But for my family, the week between Christmas and New Years of 2015 was a rocky start to a bad two years. My husband John went in for what we thought was just a routine performance review at his job, but instead he was fired.

With no significant savings, no plan, and two kids under two, the next two years was not a walk in the park. At least not a nice park. It was like Central park–unusual, terrifying, and full of thieves and vagrants. Our bank account was closed, our family van was repossessed, and we soon faced impending litigation. John found a job in September, only to be fired (again) before Christmas. In the summer of 2017, John found another job and we waited pessimistically for the inevitable, but thankfully this job stuck. Now, with a third baby on the way we were desperate to replace the van we’d lost. To do so would not be difficult, it would be impossible. We needed a miracle.

There’s a funny thing about miracles; they’re not always big, parting of the sea kind of miracles. It’s because of this that most people think miracles don’t exist. But miracles do exist, most miracles are just small and usually go unnoticed by anyone else except to whom they are happening. Miracles also usually come when you least expect them, and for us, that was Christmas Eve.

That night the stockings were hung, still with care but with removable hooks on the wall because we live in an apartment and there is no chimney. I in my yoga pants and John in his Hurley baseball cap had just settled down for a long winter’s nap–but we’re parents, so a short winter’s nap–when there arose a knock on the door.

A knock is a different sound entirely from Santa coming down the chimney but just as surprising as any unexpected guest. We opened the door to see, not Santa, but people who could easily be described as bringers of gifts. Their names were Ryan Schooley, Jessica Ferrin, and Tom Moak–angels from Chubby’s. They came bearing gifts; food, toys for my kids, and most inspired, a van.

Ryan spoke to my husband, “John I have been where you are now–down on your luck and praying for a miracle. But now, I am able to buy my family a new van. So I want to pay it forward and give you our old van. The only thing I ask is that when you are on your feet again, you do the same for somebody else.” We accepted the van and the promise with tears in our eyes. Now, you see, what transpired that night, after all we had been through, could only be described as a miracle.

Author: Briana Pugh

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