The Green Island Christmas Company.(Kevin Hughes) Tom looked at his Mother. Her back was to him, but he could see what she was doing. She was writing IOU’s. Tom was only ten years old, but he knew what that meant. Once again, for every Christmas he could remember, they wouldn’t be getting any presents. Oh sure, the Church would make sure they had a good meal, and he looked forward to the pies they brought. He was always grateful for that blessing. But presents would be nice. He shrugged and went back to bed. He had saved some of his Halloween Candy, so the girls and his little brother will have a treat. And he had managed to keep the Almond Joy candy bar (full sized!) hidden in his secret space under the lose board behind the dresser. That was for his Mom. He dreamed of ordering stuff online. Tomorrow was Christmas Day.

*****

“What? I don’t understand?”

The nice young men stood outside their truck. On the side was a sign that looked like it came out of a 1940’s Holiday Movie. It was cheery, and bright, and the logo was written in one of those old Fonts you saw on the old Coca-Cola Santa adds during World War II. The sign read:

GREEN ISLAND CHRISTMAS COMPANY.

All of the young men were wearing matching green pants, with green shirts. The front pocket on the shirts looked like it was made from Christmas Wrapping Paper. They had on red boots, red hats, and red gloves. They looked like a bunch of college kids decided to dress like Elves in UPS Uniforms. The one young man she was talking to had handed her a clipboard to sign.

It was her address, phone number and work email. She didn’t have a computer at home. Or a smartphone either. There was a list of items that covered two pages with little boxes checked off next to each one. At the bottom was a “Paid in Full” Stamp. All she had to do was sign. She did. The young man smiled, put his two fingers in his mouth and whistled.

The driver backed the truck into her driveway and opened the back door.

She would have fallen if the young man had turned in time to catch her. The truck was stuffed with all kinds of things, most of them gift wrapped. The first thing out was a Christmas Tree - complete with ornaments, tinsel and lights. The second thing was a wonderful Nativity set. She pointed to it. The young man with the Holiday Gift Paper shirt pocket smiled and said:

“Oh, that? Well, can’t forget the real reason for the season can we?”

With that he handed her a small figurine, maybe two inches across, wrapped in soft white cloth. She opened it.

“Oh. My. God.”

The young Elf (that is how her mind was starting to see these young men…although her mind skipped over the fact that these “elves” were six feet tall…and strong) laughed gently.

“Literally.”

She smiled at him. The baby Jesus in her hand was exquisite. Art…really…I mean really. The small baby had its arms out wide like it wanted to hug the world, and the look on its face she remembered from when her babies slept on her lap. She tucked it back into the soft cloth. The Elf spoke again:

“Remember, He doesn’t go in the cradle until tomorrow.”

She looked up as they unloaded stuff and carried it into the house. None of them made a sound. She couldn’t hear their footsteps and she was standing right by the door. Load after load, armfuls at times, other times, it took two, even three of the young men…er…elves, to carry whatever was under the wrapping paper. She wondered where in the world they were putting it all.

Almost everything was out of the truck. She was still standing outside in the snow on her tiny porch. Funnily enough, even tho the snow had been falling the entire time the Elf Men were traipsing in and out of her humble home, nothing was wet. Neither was she. And she wasn’t cold. Considering her robe was worn thin by time and wear, she should have been shivering. She wasn’t. In fact, she was quite toasty. She pulled at the lapels of her robe …and almost yelled out loud. It wasn’t her old thin worn out robe at all! It was a wonderful thick fleece robe…lined.

“Oh, my Heaven!”

All of the young men in their peculiar matching Uniforms laughed out loud.

“Close. Very close.”

Then she snapped back to the present moment as the young man (Elf?) with the clipboard handed her a key fob. She stared at it numbly. He turned and waved to his crew. They popped in the back of the truck and pushed out a car. Not any old car. A Mini Van that would hold her and her six kids in comfort. It was the most beautiful car she had ever seen. Tears ran down her cheek.

“Who are you people?”

The young man ripped a copy of her receipt from his clipboard handed that to her with a small envelope.

“Here is a receipt for everything, The envelope has enough cash to pay any taxes, and a gas card good for three thousand gallons…so you can make that trip down South to see your sister this year.”

He winked at her.

“And it says right on the truck, we are: The Green Island Christmas Company. “

She called the Furniture Store, the Computer Store, the Car Dealership and several clothing stores the Monday after Christmas. They all said the same thing:

“Oh no Ma’am. No mistake. Everything is paid for. The Green Island Christmas Company paid in full, picked up the items and delivered them. Nice young men, but kind of weird Uniforms. Loved the pockets on the shirts though. Good Holiday bling. Nice young men those guys…reminded me of Elves, if Elves were six feet tall.”

Tom had woken up early. He wanted to get his candy out and downstairs before Mom and the little ones woke up. When he slid the board back he found a whole stack of “IOU’s” in his Mom’s handwriting. Every single one she had written - ever. All had a bright green stamp on them: “Paid in Full. Green Island Christmas Company.” He didn’t know what to think.

He went downstairs. The candy fell from his hand. His Mom was sitting in a beautiful new cloth recliner. She was sipping Hot Chocolate and staring at a beautiful Christmas Tree. On her lap she held a little baby Jesus. The prettiest one he had ever seen. He went over to look closer. She handed the baby Jesus to her son.

“Here Honey, put Him in the manger now. You can…it is Christmas.”

Almost in a stupor, he walked over to the Nativity set on the Kitchen Table. A table that seated eight, not two, like their old table that was there when he went to bed. He liked the way the Baby Jesus looked at him. So he gave a quick prayer. Then he turned to his Mother:

“Mom…(waving his hand around three now fully furnished rooms. Room that now included a washer and dryer, a fridge, couches, a big screen TV and a computer desk complete with computer.) what…wa…what is all this?”

“Gifts honey. Gifts from the good people at Green Island Christmas Company.”

On Monday, he used his new iPad to look up: “Green Island Christmas Company.”

There wasn’t any such thing.

His smartphone pinged. He had a text. He thought it was his Mom trying out their new phones from Christmas. It wasn’t. It was a text with no return address or phone number. It said in bold letters with a smily face emoji:

“No Snooping!”

Underneath it said:

Merry Christmas from the gang at Green Island Christmas Company.

The picture below the text was of the little Baby Jesus laying in the manger of their Nativity Set.

Tom smiled.

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