They proudly showed her our modest Christmas decorations. Paper chains. Popcorn strings. A crooked star my daughter had cut from cardboard. Dinner was simple. Soup, bread, and a small ham I had saved for weeks to afford.
That night, our home felt fuller than it ever had.
She slept on our couch, wrapped in the warmest blankets we owned.
When Kindness Is Questioned
The next morning, I returned to work.
That was when the comments began.
A coworker cornered me near the supply closet, her tone sharp. She had heard I had taken in a stranger. Her words were filled with judgment, not concern.
I said nothing.
Over the years, I had learned that explaining compassion to people who choose not to understand it rarely changes anything.
Margaret stayed with us for three days. She helped fold laundry, shared old holiday stories with the children, and sometimes wiped her eyes when she thought no one was watching.
On the fourth morning, she hugged me tightly.
Continue reading…
