Noelle Miller dragged her feet through the three inches of snow that had fallen during her shift at Samville Café. One week until Christmas, and she still didn’t have enough money to pay the rent, much less the other bills piling up on her kitchen counter. Not that it mattered. She’d missed court last week for her eviction hearing and knew she had very little time to vacate the only home she had. Her choice had been to lose her job by taking off for court or miss the hearing. She’d chosen the job because at least it put food on the table. She wasn’t sure how much time she had or what she would do next. A fat snowflake hit next to her right eye. She didn’t even bother to brush it away.

“Merry Christmas!” An old classmate hollered at her as she rushed by on her way to last-minute Christmas shopping.

Noelle waved but didn’t respond. If she had, it would have been in the tradition of Ebenezer Scrooge with a “bah humbug.” The truth was that this was yet another miserable Christmas in a long line of them. From the time she’d been five years old and entered the foster system for the first time, Christmas hadn’t held much magic. Her mother, constantly battling an abusive relationship or a drug problem, was arrested three days before Christmas that year. Although the foster family that took Noelle and her little brother in did their best, they didn’t have time to know Noelle had asked Santa for a life-like stuffed puppy, much less to buy one for her. That was the year she realized Santa didn’t exist and that she’d lost Christmas magic.

Noelle grasped the metal handle of her 2010 Chevy only to find it was frozen solid and wouldn’t open. She pulled back as hard as she could, her feet skittering on the icy surface as she fell on her bum. She looked around, hoping no one noticed, stood up, brushed herself off, and got in the car. The arctic chill the weather forecaster promised settled around her shoulders and into her bones. Unfortunately, the car’s heater didn’t work very well. She turned the key and started the engine, grimacing when it groaned. Thankfully, the engine turned over, and she was able to pull out slowly. She squinted to see the way. The snow was falling faster than predicted.

Samville, Indiana, with a population of 10,559 people, had a handful of stoplights, several eateries, a grocery store, and at least two dozen churches. She passed by the Samville Community Church, noticing the lights on inside and a full parking lot. She’d tried to go to church once when she was eighteen. She’d just aged out of the foster system, had no family, and no one to love her. She’d thought God was supposed to love you, so maybe His people would, too. Instead, they’d whispered as she’d entered and shot her worried glances. No one had greeted her. She’d felt extremely uncomfortable and realized church wasn’t for her. She wasn’t even sure she believed in God. Surely a good God wouldn’t let the things that happened to her when she was a child occur. Why would he create her only for people to hurt her physically and emotionally? If he was real, she wasn’t sure he liked her very much. She shivered and pulled her worn coat tighter around her shoulders.

Noelle just wanted to get home to her tiny, empty apartment, heat some of the leftovers from last night and fall asleep. A table with fifteen people ran her ragged and kept her from taking other tables. She’d made sure they had everything they needed, refilled drinks, checked on them, and they’d tipped her five dollars on a three-hundred-dollar bill. She’d barely kept from crying when she’d seen the amount. It wasn’t even enough to cover her gas to and from work.

When she arrived at the old Victorian-style home turned fourplex, she found a parking space in the back lot and noted that the walkway was untouched. The snow melted from it during the day and refroze as evening approached, making it slippery to walk to the entry. She’d dealt with it every winter. She’d walk in the grass to the side of the concrete. Her feet would get wet from snow getting in her shoes, but she was home and could change her socks once inside.

She entered the front door and made her way up the narrow staircase to the second floor, where her apartment was—2B. A piece of white paper was taped to her door. She glanced around, wondering if her neighbor saw it. Not that they had any reason to care. In the two years she’d lived her, she’d seen them a handful of times, and they barely spoke. She sighed and pulled the Writ of Possession off the door. She had exactly forty-eight hours to get her belongings and go. She drew in a shaky breath, her hand that held the paper trembling.

She’d believed things would get better for her. At eighteen, she’d thought she’d get a job, get her own place and finally live in a peaceful home without people who either hurt her, yelled at her or didn’t care if she lived or died. She’d imagined she’d make friends, get married, have a family, and never allow her children to feel unwanted or frightened. Why had she even been born? If she could choose, she would decide not to exist. The cold darkness of death called to her once again in this devastating moment. How easy it would be to drive her car off the Becker Bridge. The water there was deep, and people wouldn’t find her car until the spring rains stopped and the creek grew more shallow. Who would miss her? Perhaps her boss when she didn’t show up for her shift and he had to fill the gap. But he wouldn’t even really care. He’d never once asked her how she was. No one would miss her. No one ever would.

She wadded up the notice and threw it to the floor. The decision she’d been mulling over for months became crystal clear. God didn’t care about her. She didn’t care about living. Her baby brother was the only reason she might have stayed around. But he was lost to the pain of a broken system, as so many others had been. He’d chosen to leave her, no longer able to cope with the demons in his mind. Now, she would join him.

She moved slowly, intentionally. A tiny part of her wished someone would stop her and ask her how she was. That they would give her a reason to hope life might be different. She passed her downstairs neighbor, bringing her tiny dog in from a walk. The woman didn’t even say hello, but hunkered down against the chill and rushed past. Message received, God. Loud and clear. You couldn’t care less about me if you’re even there.

Noelle returned to her car. The engine turned over without a hitch, solidifying her plan. Would she go to sleep when the car slipped under the icy water? Would it hurt? It couldn’t hurt as bad as this life she was living. She watched others with their Christmas cheer and family traditions this time of year. They made fudge with their grandmas and went to Christmas plays with their families. She’d longed for the same thing and never gotten it. Now, she never would. This life was hard, and she was bone weary at twenty-one. She felt as though she’d lived a hundred years in that time.

As she approached Becker Bridge, she gripped the steering wheel more tightly and pushed the pedal to increase her speed. “No backing out now, Noelle. Just do it. Don’t be a coward.”

Even as she said the words, she spotted a flash of red against the white snow. “What in the world?” She leaned forward slightly, easing her foot off the gas. What had she seen? Was there a person up there? She didn’t want to hurt anyone else by losing control and hitting them. She slowed to a crawl. Maybe it had been a deer. They weren’t usually out so late after dusk, but you never know. She glanced to the side and then back at the road in front of her.

“Ahhh!” A sleek golden retriever stared at her with gentle eyes. She could almost swear the dog smiled at her. She tapped the brakes, knowing better than to strike them on the icy roads. The car slid to a stop within mere inches of the dog. She was so grateful she hadn’t hit the animal. The dog disappeared into the night, never looking back.

It took Noelle a few minutes to compose herself. She realized the car had stalled, so she turned it over. It sputtered and died again. The “E” on her instrument panel explained the problem. She hadn’t made enough money to fill her tank tonight, and then she’d forgotten how close to running out of gas she was.

What would she do? Just when she believed things couldn’t get any worse, they always did. Maybe the dog was God’s way of saving you. She pushed the thought away. God could have saved her a long time ago had He wanted to. What now? She’d always read to stay with your car if you broke down in the snow, but it was cold, and she was out in the middle of nowhere. Few cars were on the road, as snow kept falling faster and fatter with each passing minute.

She pulled her worn coat around her and opened the driver’s door, stepping out onto the road. Her shoes sank, and she instantly felt the squish of cold. How far was it to town? She’d start walking, she supposed.  Should she go toward town or back toward the bridge and jump off? The snow shimmered, muffling all sound enough that the quiet almost echoed.

A moment later, a soft whuff broke the blanket of silence surrounding her. The dog reappeared at the edge of the road, his tail wagging. Brown eyes stared at her, bright and patient. This time, the creature stayed put in her path, blocking the way to the bridge. He lifted his nose and nudged her gloved hand to the top of his head. She let her fingers stroke his soft fur. For the first time in forever, someone noticed her existence—and it was a dog. She laughed once, short and startled. She hadn’t laughed in ages, so the sound was unfamiliar.

“Go on home, boy. It’s cold out here.” The dog didn’t leave. He moved closer and pressed his body against her legs. She soaked in the feeling of another living thing caring that she was there. After long minutes, he turned and walked a few steps toward town. Then, he stopped and turned to look at her as though waiting for her to follow. Noelle felt her resolve begin to fade. Where did he belong? The least she could do before she left this earth was a good deed and help this sweet creature find his family.

A few hundred feet down the road, the dog led the way to a dim porch light set back from the snowy road. The driveway was untouched, creating a winter wonderland that was breathtakingly beautiful in its pureness and simplicity. The crystals sparkled in the moonlight. A small farmhouse rose before her, the siding weathered. It looked as though it needed a good scraping and a couple of coats of paint. The dog rushed toward the door, a board creaking under his light weight. Noelle hesitated. The cold and dampness sent a shiver through her, and she trembled violently. Before she could talk herself into turning back the way she’d come, the dog let out a high-pitched bark.

“Shh!” She should leave.

Before she could finish the thought, the front door swung inward. An older woman squinted out into the brightness of the falling snow and moonlight.

“Bob Smith, is that you? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” xxx

She wore thick sweat pants and a sweatshirt with blinking Christmas lights attached to the front. Her eyes connected with Noelle’s, taking in her soaked shoes and shivering. Rather than push her away or demand why she was there, the woman’s face softened.

“You don’t look like you were out walking on purpose.”

Noelle forced a smile she didn’t feel. “I ran out of gas. This guy brought me here. Did you say his name is Bob Smith?”

“Ridiculous, isn’t it? My late husband thought it was hilarious to talk about Bob Smith and having to get Bob’s dinner. People thought he had a friend named that for years, even though it was our dog. We started naming every dog Bob Smith. This is Bob Smith the Fifth. Honey, you are freezing. You’re welcome to come warm up.”

Inside a cozy kitchen, a space heater hummed, adding to the warmth the furnace seemed to provide only barely. Some vegetable soup simmered on the stove, steam rising from the surface. Noelle could see a small Christmas tree in the next room. It leaned slightly to the right, sporting just a few decorations.

“Have a seat, honey. What is your name?”

“Noelle.”

“Such a beautiful name. Your mother must have loved Christmas.”

Noelle winced. She didn’t like to think about her mother. The woman destroyed her childhood, spent years in and out of prison, and died in a drug overdose when Noelle was only twelve. Thinking of the woman who gave birth to her brought sadness, anger and a whole lot of “if only.”

The woman didn’t question her expression or silence. “I’m Esther, like the queen who saved the Israeli people.”

Noelle had no idea what she was talking about, but thought it was probably a Bible name. She sank into a wooden chair, relief washing over her at the gentle companionship. Bob Smith dropped to the floor and lay on her feet under the table.

“Bob likes you. You must be a good egg. He’s an excellent judge of character.”

Esther moved to the stove, spooned some of the soup into a large bowl, and set it in front of Noelle. She moved back to the counter, tore off a chunk of homemade bread and returned with a spoon and a butter dish. She said one word. “Eat.”

They sat in companionable silence, the only sound the dog’s gentle snores. How could she feel so at home, as though she’d known this woman her whole life?

“Holidays can make the quiet louder,” Esther said.

Noelle bit back a sob, but she couldn’t stop the tears sliding down her cheeks and into her bowl of soup. She hadn’t cried in years—too numb from heartache. Finally, she whispered, “I don’t think anyone would notice if I disappeared.”

Esther didn’t try to correct her. She just nodded slowly. “I used to think the same thing.”

The woman reached out a hand and laid it across Noelle’s. It was a simple gesture of humanity, but it was the first time anyone had cared about her or her feelings in a long time. Noelle wished time would stop and she could stay in this moment forever.

Within an hour, the footsteps Noelle left up the drive were covered with fresh snow.

“No one is coming out this way tonight,” Esther said. “I have a nice guest room with your name on it, and I’ll be happy to have the company. It doesn’t look like I’ll be able to make it to church tomorrow.”

“Church?” Noelle swallowed.

“I got to the Community Church up the road. Do you know it?”

Did she know it? Noelle grimaced. She’d gone there hoping for a connection and to learn about God, and she’d walked away as lost as ever, feeling even more disconnected.

“I tried going once,” Noelle admitted. “I didn’t feel any type of connection.”

“I stopped going for a long time. Felt like God had forgotten me,” Esther said. “After Walter passed, I didn’t feel like the people did enough. I was mad at the pastor and angry at my brothers and sisters in Christ. I was just furious and stopped going. They didn’t reach out, and it made me even madder. But churches are made up of imperfect people with their own pain. They didn’t mean to be unkind. They just had their own problems. When I started asking for help, they came through for me in more ways than one. They would for anyone.”

Noelle nodded.

“I learned something. God didn’t leave when I did. He still showed up every day. I’d go to the grocery store, and I’d bump into one of my old friends from church. They’d ask how I was. The pastor called me. God even spoke to me through emails and advertisements. Always the same message—you aren’t alone.”

“You really think God sends messages?”

“I know He does.” Esther leaned forward. “He sent Bob Smith to help you tonight. Do you mind if we pray?”

Noelle hesitated for a moment and then shrugged. What would it hurt to let the woman pray for her?

“Lord, thank You for bringing Noelle here tonight. Please help her stay.”

The word landed with a thud into her heart.

Stay.

As though all the angels in heaven got to work on helping God answer Esther’s prayer, the wind howled, curling around the boards of the old house and whistling a tune. Noelle couldn’t leave if she wanted to in this weather.

When she finally retired to the guest room, the dog followed her, lying beside the bed as though keeping an eye on her while she slept.  The heavy quilt was faded from years of use but smelled freshly laundered with a hint of lavender. She settled into the soft comfort of the mattress and felt Bob Smith heave his canine body onto the bed, settling beside. His presence was heavy and warm and more reassuring than anything in her life. For the first time in a long time, Noelle slept without worry or fear about what tomorrow would bring.

Most nights, she woke screaming into the silence, still haunted by nightmares from the real monsters she’d encountered in various homes. The sleep was restorative to her body, mind and spirit. In the morning, light spilled across the snow, creating a brilliant glow in the room. She could smell coffee brewing.

Life was still hard, but there was a calmness about her she hadn’t felt maybe ever. Noelle glanced at the dog, still snoozing by her side. Noelle realized something ancient. She hadn’t needed saving from the water. She needed someone to see her before she drove into it. A sweet dog had done that, but looking at his innocent face, she wondered if perhaps he’d been on a mission from God. She’d cried out to her maker minutes before Bob Smith had stopped her.

Esther smiled as she entered the kitchen. “I hope you slept well.”

“Honestly? It was the best night of sleep I’ve had since I was a very little child. Life hasn’t been easy. Foster homes and monsters trying to hurt me.”

“I suspected as much, but God led you here. He told me so when I was praying last night.”

“How does that work?” Noelle sat at the table. “People say that. Does he just speak words and you hear them?”

“Now, that would make me sound crazy.” Esther winked. “It’s more of a thought you have, and you just know it is His voice when you know him through prayer, studying your bible and in the stillness of your spirit.”

“I don’t know.” It did sound a little wild to Noelle, who had never felt she mattered much to anyone. The idea of God was joyful and hurtful at the same time. She wanted a heavenly father who loved her. At the same time, she didn’t understand why He would let her life be so miserable from such a young age. Why hadn’t He protected her?

She and Esther continued to talk as the snowplows worked their way down the main road and someone from the church plowed Esther’s driveway. The older woman laid her hand on Noelle’s arm.

“I feel strongly that God told me you need somewhere to stay, and I should open my home to you. You are welcome here—always and for as long as needed.”

Noelle swallowed the sobs that threatened to escape from her chest. “How could you know that?”

“Not me. God.” Esther pointed to the ceiling.

Noelle swallowed. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course.”

“But, I’m a stranger.” She’d been alone since she was a child, always looking out for herself. She wasn’t used to other people helping her.

“We are all children of God,” Esther said firmly, her voice sure and steady.

Later that day, one of the men from the church filled Noelle’s car with gas and brought it to her at Esther’s house, insisting there was no need for her to pay him back and wishing her a Merry Christmas. Within ten minutes of sharing about the eviction with Esther, the woman had people lined up to help her pack her belongings and bring them to the house.

Noelle walked to her car, which the man had parked in the driveway. The eviction notice still sat heavy in her pocket, but now she had a place to go and people who cared. She looked back toward the house, where Bob Smith sat on the front porch, his tail thumping twice against the wood. And, he smiled at her with a doggie grin and wise brown eyes.

God hadn’t entirely erased her pain, but he’d answered it with the presence of a dog named Bob Smith and his sweet owner, who was as fierce as a queen who saved a nation of people.