something.
How good God had been to them over the years. Gideon had figured out that their Christmas surprises were from him, and he
had flown back to Portland and spent time with the Mercer family. He’d stayed in touch throughout Gideon’s transplant process.
And when she came home two months later with a healthy report, Earl was the first one she called.
She had become something of a granddaughter to him. Someone he loved as dearly as he’d loved his own girl.
He had flown out for the wedding. He still lived in Redding. His parents had both died years ago, so he had the old house
to himself now. Just him, alone with the Lord, celebrating life and anxious for heaven.
He maneuvered himself past the milling crowd and peered over the heads of a group of men. There she was. Surrounded by guests
in the far corner of the church foyer. He made his way closer and motioned to her. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Gideon?”
Her face lit up, those unforgettable eyes shining. She excused herself and followed him to a quiet spot around the corner.
“Earl.” She took his hands in hers. “I’m so glad you made it.”
A blush warmed his face and he stared at his shoes for a moment. “I have a plane to catch in a few hours.” He handed her a
package. “I wanted you to open this before I go.”
“Earl, you shouldn’t have. It’s enough that you’re here.” She slid her finger into a seam in the wrapping paper and pulled
out a framed painting. For a long moment she merely stared at it. Then two delicate tears trickled down her cheeks. “Oh… It’s
beautiful, Earl. I can’t believe it.”
It was an original painting, one he had commissioned from an artist friend he knew at church. Earl had found an old photograph
of Gideon as an eight-year-old, a picture she’d given him long ago. Then he’d asked the artist to duplicate it on canvas.
The man had done a stunning job of capturing Gideon’s soulful eyes and the emotion she carried in her heart at that young
age.
But that wasn’t what made Gideon stare in wonder.
There was something else—something Earl had asked the artist to add to the painting. On the left side it read, “Christmas
miracles happen to those who believe.” And beneath that was a perfect illustration of the gift that had started it all.
The gift that had both changed them… and saved them.
A pair of bright red, woolen gloves.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Reader,
Many of you know me as a best-selling fiction author. Others think of me as the writer who brings you collections of true
miracle stories.
Gideon’s Gift
is a combination of both these passions. Whereas other miracle stories I write about are rooted in truth, this one grew from
the soil of my heart.
I hope you enjoyed traveling the pages of
Gideon’s Gift,
walking the streets of Portland with Earl, and standing by as a very special little girl longed for a miracle. Perhaps you’ve
read a chapter a night for each of the twelve days of Christmas. Or maybe you found time to curl up in a chair and read Gideon’s
story in one sitting. Either way, my prayer for you is this: that like Gideon you would believe in miracles this Christmas
season.
Maybe for you that means trusting God in a dark time. Or maybe it means making a phone call and mending ties between you and
someone you love. Maybe it’s a new doll for your daughter or a fire truck for your son. Whatever your situation, please, look
for God’s presence this holiday season.
Because, like Gideon said, Christmas miracles do happen to those who believe. On the following pages I’ve included a list
of Red Gloves Projects for you and your friends or family, or maybe your office or church group. Last year our children took
on a Red Gloves Project—by raising money to feed fifteen homeless people on Christmas Day. My challenge to you is to take
on a Red Gloves Project of your own. So that the type of miracle love spread by little Gideon
How good God had been to them over the years. Gideon had figured out that their Christmas surprises were from him, and he
had flown back to Portland and spent time with the Mercer family. He’d stayed in touch throughout Gideon’s transplant process.
And when she came home two months later with a healthy report, Earl was the first one she called.
She had become something of a granddaughter to him. Someone he loved as dearly as he’d loved his own girl.
He had flown out for the wedding. He still lived in Redding. His parents had both died years ago, so he had the old house
to himself now. Just him, alone with the Lord, celebrating life and anxious for heaven.
He maneuvered himself past the milling crowd and peered over the heads of a group of men. There she was. Surrounded by guests
in the far corner of the church foyer. He made his way closer and motioned to her. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Gideon?”
Her face lit up, those unforgettable eyes shining. She excused herself and followed him to a quiet spot around the corner.
“Earl.” She took his hands in hers. “I’m so glad you made it.”
A blush warmed his face and he stared at his shoes for a moment. “I have a plane to catch in a few hours.” He handed her a
package. “I wanted you to open this before I go.”
“Earl, you shouldn’t have. It’s enough that you’re here.” She slid her finger into a seam in the wrapping paper and pulled
out a framed painting. For a long moment she merely stared at it. Then two delicate tears trickled down her cheeks. “Oh… It’s
beautiful, Earl. I can’t believe it.”
It was an original painting, one he had commissioned from an artist friend he knew at church. Earl had found an old photograph
of Gideon as an eight-year-old, a picture she’d given him long ago. Then he’d asked the artist to duplicate it on canvas.
The man had done a stunning job of capturing Gideon’s soulful eyes and the emotion she carried in her heart at that young
age.
But that wasn’t what made Gideon stare in wonder.
There was something else—something Earl had asked the artist to add to the painting. On the left side it read, “Christmas
miracles happen to those who believe.” And beneath that was a perfect illustration of the gift that had started it all.
The gift that had both changed them… and saved them.
A pair of bright red, woolen gloves.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Reader,
Many of you know me as a best-selling fiction author. Others think of me as the writer who brings you collections of true
miracle stories.
Gideon’s Gift
is a combination of both these passions. Whereas other miracle stories I write about are rooted in truth, this one grew from
the soil of my heart.
I hope you enjoyed traveling the pages of
Gideon’s Gift,
walking the streets of Portland with Earl, and standing by as a very special little girl longed for a miracle. Perhaps you’ve
read a chapter a night for each of the twelve days of Christmas. Or maybe you found time to curl up in a chair and read Gideon’s
story in one sitting. Either way, my prayer for you is this: that like Gideon you would believe in miracles this Christmas
season.
Maybe for you that means trusting God in a dark time. Or maybe it means making a phone call and mending ties between you and
someone you love. Maybe it’s a new doll for your daughter or a fire truck for your son. Whatever your situation, please, look
for God’s presence this holiday season.
Because, like Gideon said, Christmas miracles do happen to those who believe. On the following pages I’ve included a list
of Red Gloves Projects for you and your friends or family, or maybe your office or church group. Last year our children took
on a Red Gloves Project—by raising money to feed fifteen homeless people on Christmas Day. My challenge to you is to take
on a Red Gloves Project of your own. So that the type of miracle love spread by little Gideon
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