Sturdy legs pumped underneath Grayson as he rushed home from school. Swerving around the other laughing children, he ran harder. Nothing could keep him from getting home first. If he didn’t beat his sister through the door, Mom would make him share his treat, and warm chocolate chip cookies were his favorite.
The scrumptious treat, cradled carefully in his backpack, were the last two remaining cookies from his class Christmas party. Missy’s mom had brought them in hot and wrapped in foil. Maybe if they were cold, he’d share, but no way would he share warm cookies. Not even with Mom. And she was his favorite person in the whole world.
Cutting through his yard and bounding down the path through the hedge that lined the walkway, he threw the door open. It thudded against the wall, but he barely noticed. Leaving it open, he stopped. Mom sat slumped in a chair and leaning against the dining room table with her hand covering her face.
“Hi, honey. How was school? Did you enjoy your Christmas party?”
Mom’s voice sounded weird. Her eyes, which normally sparkled, were dull, accenting the reddened skin around them. Grayson closed the door.
“Yeah. Missy’s mom brought hot chocolate chip cookies!”
His hands landed on the top of the table. Why wasn’t mom smiling? Mom’s were supposed to smile. The aroma of the cookies in his backpack caught up to him. Warm chocolate chips dotted each one. They were baked to perfection—a chewy middle and crisped edges. It almost seemed to touch his tongue.
He paused, then reached up and patted Mom’s shoulder. “Why are you sad?”
“Oh, it’s nothing you need to worry about.” She gathered the half-empty mug in front of her and made her way to the kitchen.
Grayson watched as she placed the mug in the sink. She lifted her hand and wiped at her face. Every minute he waited to eat the cookies, they cooled. Much longer, and the chocolate would harden.
He glanced back at Mom. “But you’re crying.”
“It’s just been a hard day. I’m okay, sweetheart. You go play.”
Hard days made Grayson cry too. The last hard day he had, Dad took away his Mega Nerf Blaster because he kept shooting his sister. But, he’d only shot her like that because she’d taken the T.V. remote. He cried a lot that day.
Following his mom to the living room, Grayson gazed at the Christmas tree lights. White lights reflected off shiny ornaments. His eyes fell to the nativity on the table next to it.
Sunday School usually meant an hour of sitting in a metal chair, kicking his feet, and being told to stop talking. But in the back of his mind, Grayson seemed to remember Sister Ross saying the baby Jesus suffered for everyone’s pain.
Grayson walked to the nativity and picked up the baby Jesus. “Mom, why doesn’t Jesus make you happy?”
After helping Grayson remove his backpack, she placed her hands on his shoulders. “He does. But he also lets us feel some sadness so we can know what happiness is.”
“Oh. Don’t you know what happiness is?”
“You make me happy.”
The front door rammed into the wall harder than it had when Grayson got home, interrupting their conversation.
“Mom, I hate school and boys!” Kayla stomped into the room, throwing her bag to the floor and herself onto the cushy chair.
Grayson wouldn’t fight her for it today. He wasn’t getting himself beat up.
Mom’s shoulders dipped a bit lower. “I like some boys.”
She winked at Grayson, but her eyes still looked sad.
“I like school.” He did, but he was glad for the two-week break, too. Telling Kayla that seemed like a waste.
His sister rolled her teary eyes at him. “Go away. Mom, make him leave.”
“I don’t want to leave.” He picked up the remote and turned on the T.V., then stuck his tongue out at Kayla when Mom wasn’t looking.
Mom reached over and shut the T.V. off. “Grayson, can you take your backpack to your room and play in there for a little while?”
How had he forgotten so quickly? Lunging for his backpack, he ran to his room. The zipper screeched as he opened the bag, and the air filled with the aroma of freshly baked cookies. Crisp foil warmed his fingertips. Grayson grinned. Missy’s mom wrapped them real good. Cookies never stayed warm that long.
As he started to unwrap the delectable treat, he heard Kayla scream at her mom. “He said that in front of the whole class! That I’m dumb!”
Grayson frowned. A lot of times, Kayla made him angry, but she still took care of him, and she wasn’t dumb. She cooked all of his favorite foods, and sometimes she helped him with his homework. Dumb people couldn’t do his homework—it was hard! He wondered when Jesus would take away Kayla’s pain. Mom probably still hurt too.
Unwrapping the cookies, he lifted the first one to his mouth, but couldn’t take a bite. Kayla and Mom liked cookies too. If Jesus wouldn’t help them be happy, maybe the cookies would.
He stared at the gooey desserts, each one perfectly round and perfectly golden. Soft in the middle, crispy on the edges, and the chocolate shined. All the other kids ate at the party, but he hadn’t.
Jacob had fallen at recess, and Grayson talked to him about the scratches he’d had after his own fall. After that, there wasn’t time to eat the cookies.
Chocolate chip cookies.
Giving away snickerdoodles or oatmeal raisin never hurt, but chocolate chip was his favorite.
The door creaked as he cracked it open to see where Mom and his sister were. Music from Kayla’s stereo filled the hall. She liked it loud. He knocked.
He blew out his breath and inhaled courageously. “I have something for you.”
“Open the door.”
She swung the door open. “What?”
Grayson offered Kayla the cookie.
“Where’d you get that?”
She shifted on her feet before taking the treat. “Thanks.”
“You’re not dumb.”
Kayla rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Yeah, neither are you.”
The door closed, and Grayson shuffled down the tiled hall to the kitchen, but Mom wasn’t there. Turning around, he headed back to her bedroom. Walking through the open door, he saw her leaning over one of her favorite blouses, which now had a large hole where a pocket had been.
“What do you need Grayson?”
“Nothing, I just figured if Jesus won’t help you be happy, maybe this cookie will.”
Mom grinned and started crying again. “It certainly smells good.” She took the cookie and broke it in half, handing some back to Grayson. “You should have some too.”
Mom pulled him against her side. “Grayson, today you helped Jesus make me happy.”
“I did?” He scrunched up his nose and looked at Mom.
“Yup. Most of the time, Jesus makes us happy through the actions of others.”
“He does. Not every miracle comes with lightning flashes. Most come in everyday ways.”
Grayson grinned. “Like sharing my cookie?”
Mom gathered Grayson in her arms and planted a kiss on top of his head. “Like sharing your cookie.”