“Every detail in our lives of love for God

is worked into something good.”

(Romans 8:28 MSG)

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Miracle on Cobblestone Lane

by Debbie Allen

“Extra! Extra!” Sammy hollered, holding the latest edition of the Chicago Tribune high above his head. Sparsely, clad in the only tattered clothes he had to his name; Sammy struggled to keep his teeth from chattering. Every word he forced out into the wintry, Chicago gusts seemed to drop at his feet like little ice cubes.    It was two days before Christmas, so the city was bustling with people, but the world seemed strangely deaf to his desperate cries to sell newspapers tonight.

“Extra…Extra! Read all a-b-b-bout it!” he tried once more, watching an older gentleman, dressed in a top hat and overcoat, coming his way.

 “Get out of my way you little street-rat!” he grumbled, pushing Sammy away with his walking stick. “What’s this city coming to anyway? Go back to the alley you came from!” he barked back at Sammy.

“M-m-er-r-ry Chrism-mm-mas, sir!” Sammy offered back; remembering his father’s words to his own eight-year-old heart.

 “Sometimes hard times makes for hard hearts. If all you see is the bad…then that’s all there will be. But if you look for the good…no matter what, then goodness will find you.” 

“Snow flurries pummeling his face, Sammy tucked his frost-bitten ears under a wet cap and climbed on top of the stack of unsold papers. Papers that should have been sold by now…papers that would keep him from getting a pay-check at the end of the day. Head, face-down on his knees, he folded his frozen limbs up into a little ball, desperate for even the tiniest touch of warmth.

“Pa-pa” he whimpered. How can I ever make it on these streets without you? Even a street-rat has fur to keep him warm; but I …I have nothing. I’m just the boy who sleeps in a box in the alley.  Help me to see the good again. I miss you, Pa-p-pa.”

Lifting his head to face the icy blasts once more, Sammy felt a warm hand land on his shoulder.  It belonged to a policeman that Sammy often saw walking the streets and alleyways after dark. 

“Nice boots, son.”  The officer commented.

“Thank-k-you, s-s-sir…do you want to b-b-b-uy a newspaper?” Sammy asked timidly, eyeing the drippy wet newspaper he held-up to the Officer.”

“You know…I would like to buy that newspaper!” the officer said, watching Sammy drop the dime he gave him down into his soggy boot.

“Thank you, s-s-sir!”

“The name’s John…Sergeant John!” the policeman said, clicking his heels together and saluting Sammy in animated fashion.  But you can call me Sarge!”

“I’m just Sammy, Mr. Sarge.”

“Where do you live, son?”

Turning around, Sammy pointed to an alleyway not far away. 

“In there” he said, eyes pointed to the ground.

“I’m going that way…why don’t you let me walk you home?  With a blizzard heading this way, no one should be out on these streets.

Hesitant, a shivering Sammy eyed the stack of unsold newspapers.  Knowing he wouldn’t have a day’s wage coming to him anyway that night; or a job to come back to the next morning; made it much easier to just walk away from.

By the time Sammy shook his head in agreement; Sarge was already pulling a blanket out of a knapsack he always carried with him and wrapping it around Sammy’s cold shoulders.

“There you go, son…that should warm you up a little.”

Sammy was most grateful for the blanket and Sarge’s company as they walked and talked along the way. 

“My Papa died a couple weeks ago.  Got shot chasing a robber out of our alleyway. Now all I got to remember him by is these boots.  They was my Papa’s boots when he was younger.  Papa said someone r-e-a-l-l-y special gave ’em to him once and that I was to take extra-special care of them.”

“Them are some fine boots alright, Sammy.”

 Sammy shrugged his shoulders as they reached his alley.  “That’s my box over there against the brick wall…by the dumpster.”

“So it is…well, before you go, I want you to take this with you.”  Sarge handed him a thermos full of warm soup from his knapsack. 

“This should help keep you warm enough through the night.”

Stunned at this stranger’s kindnesses toward him, Sammy thanked him and headed down the alley. 

“See you around, Sammy.” Sarge hollered. But by the time Sammy turned to wave, he’d already disappeared.

 Sometime in the night, the blizzard arrived full force, leaving the city streets and Sammy’s box, covered in deep drifts.  Digging himself out the next morning, he wandered into and out of street shops all day, trying to keep warm. With only one day until Christmas, Sammy hoped he’d encounter a bit more Christmas cheer and generosity in the city. Shoppers and shop keepers alike, were repulsed at the mere sight of him standing inside their store. Heartlessly, they shooed him out of their sight.  No one took time to see him as the hungry and homeless orphan he’d truly become. 

Weary and cold, Sammy collapsed on the steps of the city’s Poor House. A ‘No Vacancy’ sign nailed across the door let him know that there was no room for him there either.  Between blasts of wind and flurries pounding him, he sipped on what little soup was left in the thermos Sarge gave him the night before. Struggling to get the last cold drop of it out; the unexpected warmth of a hand on his shoulder startled him.

“I recognize those boots!” Sarge said with a grin; wrapping his giant arm around Sammy. But why have they brought you out here in this blizzard tonight, son? Its brutal out here.”

“Sarge…I…I got nowhere to go. By now the blizzard’s turned my box into a pile of wet cardboard. No one wants a street-rat like me. I’m so cold and so hungry… and it’s just not Christmas without my Papa.”

 Shop keepers told me all day that, ‘A raga-muffin like me takes the shine right off of Christmas.’”

“Oh, Sammy…that’s far from true. It’s because of people like you…the homeless, the hungry, and the orphaned; that Christmas even came! Son…what’s in your pockets doesn’t make you who you are…it’s what’s in your heart that gives you worth. Let me tell you something. Eight years ago, Christmas Eve, your Papa came running up to me on the streets, holding onto a squalling, baby boy wrapped-up in rags. That baby was abandoned in the streets near your alleyway. It was your Papa that saved him and took him in as his own. Sammy…that baby was you! You were his most treasured Christmas gift that year.”

“You knew my Papa, Sarge?”

“Sure did! Over the years I’ve watched over both of you. I was standing with your Papa the night the robber shot him. That robber was in that alleyway to make trouble for your Papa that night.  He tried to make off with everything in this world your Papa loved; including you.  Yes… the price of loving you that night cost your Papa his life; but he was only doing what he always did; putting the one he loved before himself.”

Tears streamed down Sammy’s face, freezing as they hit the tops of his boots. “I miss my Papa…why does it have to be so hard, Sarge…why?”

 “Sometimes life is hard, Sammy.  And sometimes those hard times make hard hearts. If all you can focus on is the bad…then that’s all you’ll ever see. But if you dig deep into your heart and look for the good, no matter what… then goodness will find you.”

“That’s what my Papa always told me.”

“Believe it…your Papa was wise beyond his years, son.  He knew what he was doing when he saved you that Christmas Eve. He loved you without even knowing you; and he believed someday you’d change the world the same way you changed his; just by being you.

“I…I guess so.” Sammy offered through chattering teeth.

 Working against the wind and snow, Sarge pulled a dry blanket out of his knapsack and wrapped it around Sammy’s shoulders; in place of the wet one.  He knew Sammy wouldn’t make it out on the streets in the storm another night.

“Tell you what, Sammy…” Sarge said, pulling him up on his feet and brushing the snow from his face. “Let’s work on changing your world tonight, and we’ll tackle the rest of the world another day.  Sammy nodded in agreement.

The incandescent glow of the gas lamps lining the street, cast dancing shadows out onto the glistening snow. The very sight of them made Sammy feel warmer for a time.  Because the lamps grew fewer and fewer, the way grew darker and darker.  Sammy could hardly see as they crunched their way to the farthest edge of the city.   Then they stopped.

“Look up ahead, Sammy.  Do you see those lanterns burning on the porch of that white stone house on the corner over there?”

“Yes sir. Who lives there?”

“I have to head back to the streets to finish my shift but, I want you to go up to that house and knock on the door.  When the door opens, you just say the secret password, John 3:16… and a nice lady named Grace will let you inside.”

Knowing they were about to part ways, and feeling more like crying than being brave; Sammy clicked the heels of his boots together, stood at attention and saluted Sergeant John with half-frozen fingers.

“Thank you for everything, Sarge…Sir!” 

Sarge returned the salute, touched by Sammy’s unexpected gesture. “Don’t forget the secret password!” Sarge hollered, watching Sammy climb the stairs to the white stone house.  By the time Sammy turned to respond, Sarge had already disappeared back into the darkness.

Pulling a frozen hand out from under his blanket, Sammy knocked on the red door, decorated with a beautiful wreath of fresh holly.  Shivering and anxious, he shifted back and forth on his boots.  When the door opened, a beautiful, older woman stood before him smiling.

“John 3 :16,” Sammy repeated through chattering teeth.

“Come in out of the cold, son.  My name is Grace.”

“I’m Sammy, ma’am.”

Stepping through the doorway, Sammy saw that this place was like nowhere he had ever been before. After entering, no one called him a street rat, or pushed him aside, or even told him he took the shine right off of Christmas. 

Grace pulled the wet blanket from his shoulders and motioned him to sit down in an over-stuffed, chair stationed in front of a crackling fire. Then she left the room for a while. Feeling such intense warmth, goosebumps marched across Sammy’s frozen limbs in waves.  Kicking his wet boots off, he caught sight of twenty or more other pairs of black boots, identical to his; sitting up on the hearth. Puzzled, Sammy added his boots to the line-up to dry out.  Melting into the warmth of his chair, his head was swimming with questions. Something about this place made him feel strangely warm on the inside too.

 Sitting silent with his eyes closed, he listened to the crackling fire. Sammy thought to himself, “Hmmm… John 3:16. I don’t understand it, but it s-u-r-e makes a cold boy warm.” **

Grace poked her head out of the kitchen by now to see how he was doing.

“Are you hungry, Sammy?”

“So, s-o-o-o hungry Miss Grace.  I sure, sure am.”

“Come in here and help yourself to what I like to call my famous Christmas Eve feast.”

Wide-eyed, Sammy looked out across a long table filled with foods he’d never tasted before. A roasted goose, sweet potatoes, plum pudding, fresh-baked bread, and Christmas cookies and confectionaries, he’d only dreamed of eating until now. He filled his plate and ate and ate until his stomach growled no more.  It was the first time he remembered it not growling in his life. Pushing away from the table in an effort to breathe; Sammy thanked Grace over and over again. For Grace, it was enough just watching him fill-up on the many good things he’d lacked all his life.  Such a sight brought great joy to her soft heart.

Unbelievably content, Sammy thought in silence, “H-m-m-m-m, John 3:16.  I don’t understand it but…it sure makes a hungry boy full.” **

“Now, young man; why don’t you come with me.” Grace suggested, before taking Sammy upstairs to a huge bathroom with a giant, claw-foot tub filled full of warm bath water.

“There are pajamas I believe will fit you hanging on that chair.  You just enjoy your soak!”

After Grace left, Sammy immersed himself fully in the warm water. Scrubbing with the first bar of soap he’d ever touched; he couldn’t describe the peace he felt wash over him. He’d never had a bath before; excluding the gutter waters he ran through in the alleyway. While he soaked a little more, he thought again about John 3:16. “I can’t understand it…but it sure does make a dirty boy clean.” **

Hearing a gentle knock at the door, Sammy finished slipping into the flannel pj’s left for him.  They were warm and much softer than sleeping in his street clothes, as he had done his whole life long.

“I’m coming, Miss Grace.”

 Stepping into the hallway, Grace lead him two-doors down to the room where he’d be sleeping. It was warmed by a small fireplace and smelled like the Christmas tree downstairs. Tucking Sammy into a four-poster, feather bed, Grace pulled the quilt up around his neck, patted him gently on the head; and turned the lanterns off.

“Good night, Sammy…sleep well.” Grace whispered on her way out the door.

Though it grew dark quickly, it didn’t compare to the emptiness of the darkness he’d known inside his box. Here, there was a window.  Before dosing off, Sammy watched the snow whirling around outside in the moonlight. His last thought this Christmas Eve was about John 3:16. As he drifted off, he whispered aloud, “I really don’t understand it…but it sure makes a tired boy feel rested…z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z.” **

Christmas Morning, Sammy woke up hearing the beautiful sounds of the church bells ringing in the city. Slipping into the new set of clothes Grace left for him on the foot of his bed, he couldn’t believe how warm he still felt. Bounding down the stairs, in socks with no holes; he met Grace again. Joining her at the table, Sammy sat in awe of the king’s breakfast spread out in front of him. Sipping on hot chocolate, there was a knock on the front door; followed by the beautiful sounds of children’s voices singing in unison.

“Come, Sammy…I want you to come and see this!” Grace beckoned, opening the front door.

Sammy looked out and saw a very different scene on her front porch than he’d seen the night before. The blizzard subsided and there stood before them, what Sammy perceived, as a small army of children.  Children of all ages and sizes, joyfully singing the words to a song he’d never heard before. He found it strange that on every child’s feet was a pair of black boots, identical to his own. 

Miss Grace joined in the singing, too.  Sammy couldn’t put his finger on what was happening inside of him.  Though he didn’t know the song, his heart ached to know it.  Somehow, the words made him feel what he could only describe as a deeper-warm, a fuller-full, and a truer-peace than he’d ever known before.

“God Bless you all!” Grace said, placing both of her hands upon her heart and then opening wide her arms toward the children; as if giving them each a piece of her heart.

“Every Christmas, these children come and stand on my doorstep; singing the words back to me that changed their lives forever.   Once, they were just like you, Sammy.  Cold, hungry, and lost on the streets of a city that abandoned them. Their lives were changed by a knock on my door because they learned the secret of the password, ‘John3:16.’”

“Miss Grace…can a boy like me learn the secret, too?”

“Of course, Sammy. But first, I want to show you where the words to that song came from. There is enough Love in those words to cover us all.”

Pointing to a page in her Bible, Grace sang the words of John 3:16 back to him like the children had earlier:

“This is how much God loved us,

He gave his Son, his One and Only Son.

And this is why…by believing in Him,

Anyone can have a whole and lasting life!

Anyone who trusts in him is saved!”  Jesus

came to help us, to put our world right again.”

(John 3:16 MSG)

Brushing Sammy’s hair out of his eyes, Miss Grace pulled his face towards hers and spoke softly.

“So, Sammy…do you have room in your own heart for Jesus?

“Oh, I do, Miss Grace…I sure do. I want Jesus to make my world right again.  I don’t understand everything about John 3:16 yet…but I do know that it sure makes a lost boy feel safe!” **

Grace agreed and added, “I don’t think even I can ever understand the depths of a Love so great as this Love in John 3:16…but what I’ve learned in my life is this. That kind of Love sure makes life worth living!” **

When Grace tucked Sammy in that night, she handed him a present to open. 

“I thought you should have this, son.”

“Thank you…ma’am. It’s a picture of a policeman with a little boy.”

“Yes…  a photo taken of my husband, John, giving that little boy next to him his first pair of black boots. We give them to all the children who come through our home.  But that little boy is your Papa…and those boots he’s holding are the same boots you came in here wearing last night.”

Studying the photo, a little closer, Sammy looked up at Grace with renewed excitement.

“And standing next to my Papa is the policeman that fed me, and kept me warm, and helped me find my way here!  That’s Sarge!  When will he be home, Miss Grace?  I want to thank him too!”

Oh Sammy, dear…I’m afraid my John went home to live in Heaven more than ten years ago.”

Hugging the photo tighter, Sammy slipped back under his covers, trying to make sense out of   what she’d just told him.

“But, Miss Grace…that’s impossible.  I just saw Sarge last night!” 

“Sammy, dear…nothing is impossible when you have the Love of John 3:16 living down inside of you.  Jesus’ Love for you is bigger than anything you can imagine. And that includes finding yourself standing right in the middle of your own Christmas Miracle! Merry Christmas, Sammy!

**Original version of the inspirational story, “John 3:16”, author unknown; may be seen at this URL:

JOHN 3:16 – Inspirational stories, motivational stories, poems, (motivateus.com)

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PRAYER: Dearest Father in Heaven, give us a fresh vision of Who You are in this coming year. Empower us to live the ‘John 3:16 life’ out before others; a life that daily reflects the Great Love we have living down inside our own hearts…Jesus. Bless, through each of us, those in the world who feel forgotten, tread-upon, or unseen and abandoned. Christmas belongs to them, too. Great peace comes with knowing that ‘every detail in our lives of love for God, is worked into something good.’ Apart from You, Lord…we have no good thing. IN JESUS NAME…AMEN