A Christmas Dinner

A snowy,stiff, cold wind blew across the Old North Side Cafe.

On Christmas the cafe is closed. The men are at home with children in houses about to be filled with warmth and love. In the air is the unmistakable aroma of roast turkey, hot rolls and pumpkin pie.

Stella, the waitress, lowered her head into a sharp gust and counted the blocks to the cafe. She was already cold. The kids were with their father for the holiday. Stella spent Christmas without them.

Before the divorce, Christmas was awful for Stella. She cooked a meal for at least 20-- turkey, ham and all the trimmings. Stella made rolls, cranberry sauce, and the little extras like oyster dressing, and fudge that made the day special.

Stella remembered how mad she was after the feast was over. Hours and hours of hard work were reduced to twelve minutes of consumption at half-time of a football game.

Few ever said thanks. Stella and a few other women were left alone to do dishes and clean the kitchen while the men lounged.

Stella did not miss that part of Christmas
.
She chided herself for her moment of self-pity. Sunday the kids were back for Christmas with her family. Still, this cold morning, she felt alone.

The wind blew a little harder and she picked up her pace.

When Stella was little girl, Christmas was a family time. Even as a child, she understood this holiday was bittersweet but deeply meaningful for adults. Families need to be together.

It was their celebration of the things a family stands for. The best moments came with the simple rituals like prayer, lighting candles, singing, and eating food they never got to have any other time. Stella grew up with a family she could see

Her Dad had been harsh and distant at times, but on Christmas his home was always open. Stella remembered resenting some of the ragged looking people who came to their home, but her father welcomed them all.

It was 4:30 a.m. and Stella knew she was behind. Bigger spits of snow filled the air. Her fingers ached with the cold as she unlocked the cafe. Soon, the ritual began. The first smell of coffee, the rattling of pans, ovens warming, vegetables peeled, Stella moved with an ease that betrayed the size of the task before her.

Tug showed up as 8:30 a.m. with an armload of groceries. Tug was from the church. He was gay and his family did not want him for Christmas.

"Hey, I brought my TV. Do you mind?" Tug said.
"Heck No," said Stella.

By 11:30 the first of the day's guests had arrived.

He was ragged looking--had a blue stocking cap which he clutched in both hands as he stood by the door. Soon they poured in from the cold. Mostly they sat in silence, their eyes down. Old men, some women, a few children--they all shared the same hunger.

"Welcome!" said Stella bursting from the kitchen coffee in hand, Her smile was a mile wide.

Stella and her helpers, other people who had no place to go on Christmas, served about 60 homeless people that day.

Tug said a prayer that made 'em all cry. She carved ham till her hands ached, and the football game was as stupid as ever. Few said thanks.

They finished washing dishes about 7 p.m. Stella stayed and cleaned the Old North Side until 9:00 p.m. and walked home in the dark. The day had cost her $700 she didn't have.

The boss let her use the restaurant as long as it was ready for business the next day.

Stella bowed her head to the cold. All those years when she had so much she never thought about those who had nothing. Becoming tender was not easy and at times took the strangest of turns.

She welcomed the cold walk home. The stars were sharp pinpoints. Snow and ice glistened in headlights. Christmas lights merged into a swirling galaxy of illumination. The warmth from inside etched a smile on her face.

This Christmas had been a good one.