The Angel of Mistletoe

Christmas music blared as Mistletoe Marketplace shoppers streamed past where I was signing books. An older gentleman walked up and held out his hand. It shook as it reached toward mine.

I smiled. It was George.

Two years earlier we had met in almost similar situation. Back then, he had told me of his cancer battles and we shared our stories with each other. Now two years later, the disease had weakened him even more. Bi-monthly chemo and age were taking its toll as well.

But while his body is weak, his spirit is stronger than ever. At over 80 years old, George is more alive than I am at half his age.

He spoke about how cancer had made him a more powerful witness for the Lord. I listened intently to George’s testimony. His words, calm and powerful, seemed to come from someplace else. As I signed his book, he spoke how he shared his faith with people of other faiths. And how their faiths had shaped him. “At the end, we’re so similar.” He spoke of love, compassion and empathy. Cancer has humbled George. It has stripped him down to his soul’s foundation. Yet on that foundation, he has rebuilt a stronger faith.

Some people go to Mistletoe Marketplace to get into the Christmas spirit. They buy presents, listen to music and shop for presents. But standing in the middle of the Trademart, I received a greater gift: I discovered what Christmas spirit truly meant.

I shook George’s hand again, handed him his book and watched as he walked toward the cash register. I knew in my heart that I probably would never see him again. But somehow I thought I might – It just wouldn’t be at Mistletoe. I smiled as the next customer walked up. I started to write and paused — I wanted to see George one last time.

He was nowhere in sight. The angel of Mistletoe was gone.

Angels we have on heard high
Sweetly singing ore the plains
And the mountains in reply
Echo back their joyous strains

Gloria in excelsis Deo
Gloria in excelsis Deo