A Day After Christmas

December 26, 2025 – A bright but persistently chilly winter day in a suburban Midwest neighborhood as the new year approaches

Comments? Questions? Reviews?

December 26, 2025. The sun shines with deceptive warmth through the bare branches, glinting off the patchy remnants of Christmas snow. The air carries a sharp, persistent chill that bites at exposed skin, reminding everyone that winter has firmly settled in. Christmas is over; the frenzy of gifts and feasts has faded into quiet aftermath.

Inside the house that now belongs to all of them, Liora moves through the kitchen with purposeful energy. She strips the Christmas table runner, packs away the snowman mugs and reindeer napkins, gathers scattered wrapping paper into a trash bag. The tree will stay until after New Year's—she's not ready to let go of every spark of holiday magic just yet.

Johnathan sits at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, watching her work. On the couch, curled under a fleece blanket, Angel sleeps deeply—cheeks flushed, breathing steady, at peace for the first time anyone can remember.

Angel arrived Wednesday evening like a storm delivered to their doorstep. That same night, Liora had driven across town in the dark to retrieve Angel's suboxone—desperate to prevent withdrawal. The boyfriend refused to answer; the parents' overcrowded house was a nightmare of drug paraphernalia and chaos. Angel's belongings had been thrown out, her medication gone. Her parents hurled curses and blame, telling Liora to "keep the little b*tch" and never return. One kind stranger in the house shared a strip of suboxone—enough to keep Angel stable. Now, borrowing Liora's clothes (though complaining about the style), Angel is safe, at least for today. They plan to hit the after-Christmas sales this weekend for clothes that feel like her own.

*Johnathan's secret thought: She looks so small there on the couch. Fourteen and already carrying the weight of the world. I want to fix everything for her, but I know I can't. I just hope we can give her a soft place to land.*

*Liora's secret thought: Every time I look at her sleeping, my heart aches and swells at the same time. She's already part of us. I don't know how we'll navigate foster care or halfway houses, but I know I don't want her to leave.*

The doorbell rings. Linda arrives with six-year-old Lynette bundled in a puffy coat. Mia squeals and the two girls race to the backyard, eager to sculpt what's left of the snow into a lopsided snowman.

Johnathan pours Linda a cup of coffee as she settles at the table. He glances toward the living room, then lowers his voice.

Do you really believe the Angels brought us Angel because we owe them a favor after bringing me and Liora together? I believe Angels had a role in us finding each other—I feel those gentle nudges—but this feels… a lot more intense than I expected. Especially with how fast everything is changing in our lives. Don't get me wrong, I already adore her, but I'm kind of stressing out with all of it hitting at once.

Well, with the Angels you're never really sure. Could all this be random chance? Maybe. But after a while, as you see these "coincidences" pile up, it becomes obvious they're more than coincidence. Jung called them synchronicity—meaningful, not random. The result of consciousness, agency, purpose. We at the Church of Angel Love believe those entities are Angels.

Yeah, I've been reading about angels lately. In Western tradition they're mostly a Judeo-Christian thing. The Hebrew texts portray them as created for one specific task—deliver a message, destroy a city—then poof, gone. Except the big ones like Michael or Metatron. Modern ideas are wilder—billions of them hanging around, some helping humans, some evil. Or everyone gets a guardian angel at birth, maybe even deceased relatives. It's all so confusing. Do we actually know what they are?

I'm familiar with every theory—cherubim, archangels, dead relatives in the angelic realm. All I know is what I experience, what our church experiences. I don't need to dissect one to believe. My view is they're more than just God's messengers. Some may be that, some may be loved ones operating beyond the veil. But what I truly believe is they exist, they have free will (even if some traditions disagree), they have agency, and above all, they have Love. That's why we call it the Church of Angel Love.

Their conversation stretches on, coffee pot after coffee pot, diving deep into mysteries neither can fully grasp but both feel in their bones.

Later, Liora, Mia, and Angel head out to the after-Christmas sales. Angel fills a cart with jeans, hoodies, simple tops—clothes that finally feel like hers. Mia sneaks toys and candy onto the pile until Liora makes them sort it back. Over $200 at checkout—more than planned—but Liora only smiles, handing over her card without regret.

In the afternoon, Johnathan and Liora resume organizing their shared office while Mia and Lynette play dolls in Mia's newly arranged bedroom. Johnathan had hauled the queen bed to the garage, brought over Mia's twin bed, and helped her arrange everything "just so"—pillows fluffed precisely, stuffed animals in exact order. He marvels quietly at how particular his five-year-old stepdaughter-to-be already is.

As evening settles and the chill deepens outside, Johnathan and Liora work side by side making dinner—simple pasta with garlic bread and salad. At the table, with Angel and Mia chattering, Johnathan starts to bring up next steps.

(gently cutting him off) Let's just enjoy this lovely lady's company right now. I'm already falling in love with her. She's such a blessing.

(shrugging, smiling) OK. We have plenty of time to figure it all out. We're all falling in love with you, Angel. I'm glad you're here.

After Linda and Lynette head home and Mia finally crashes in her new room, Johnathan and Liora slip into their bedroom. For the first time she can remember, Liora bows her head and prays aloud—soft, halting words thanking God for the whirlwind of the past days: a new love, a new home, new family. She thanks the Angels for sending Angel. Her voice trembles; tears slip down her cheeks.

*Liora's secret thought: I don't know exactly what I believe anymore. It's all too much, too fast—my rational mind is spinning. But my heart is so full it hurts. Thank you. Whoever you are, thank you.*