A Blessed Thanksgiving

The cold night made her feel even more tired than usual. “Don, I’m going to go to sleep. I need to get up early tomorrow to fix the turkey.”

“Okay, Honey. I’ll finish reading this chapter, then I’ll be right up.” Don read a few more paragraphs, then glanced up when he heard a soft pecking sound. Probably the wind. He’d hardly had time to refocus on the story, when he heard it again, but this time it was louder. Could someone be knocking on the door? At this late hour? A glance at the clock showed 11:06.
The lights in the house were dim, so he could pretend they were already asleep. No reason to open the door so late. Still, something in him urged him to open the door.
“Who’s there?” he said without opening the door.
No one answered

Don slowly opened the door, surprised to see a little boy with tousled brown hair standing there. He couldn’t be more than five years old, and he looked as though he hadn’t had a bath for weeks. He shoved his hands into his dirty jeans and shivered beneath his thin t-shirt. His eyes pleaded for any bit of kindness Don could give.

Don glanced around, surprised to find that the child came alone. “Where are your parents?” Then Don remembered his manners. “Come. Come inside, child. You’ll catch your death of cold.”
Fear filled the boy’s eyes. “My parents have no money, and they say they can’t take care of me. They told me to come here.” The boy’s voice cracked.

Don felt his mouth fall open. Could this be true? Had the boy misunderstood his parents? “What is your name?”

“J-John. I am five years old.” His eyes darted around. “Do you have any food? I am so hungry.” The little boy’s lip quivered, and Don knew the tyke was fighting back sobs.

“Why would Mommy and Daddy leave me? Am I a bad boy?” He could hold his emotions no longer. He bent forward and sobbed uncontrollably.

“Oh, no, John. You are a very good boy. I’m sure you are! Why don’t you stay here tonight with us? Let me get you a sandwich.”

The little boy swiped at his eyes and tried to smile. Don quickly made a sandwich for John, and as the boy ate, Don went upstairs to his wife.

“Sharon, you won’t believe this!” Don sat on the edge of the bed and explained the whole situation. “Do you think we should call the police?”