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It was Christmas Eve in the parish of Birmingham, and a thin blanket of snow covered the world outside the big oak door of St Peter's church.

Inside, the vicar, Alan Talbot, was taking one last walk around after the Midnight service. He always liked to make sure everything was "just right" for Christmas day. As he neared the end of the pews, he was welcomed by a familiar sight at the back of the church. It was Mrs. Devere. She always came to see him after this service, and always for the same reason.

Mrs. Devere was a staunch church-goer, but she was not very popular with some of his parishioners as she always kept herself to herself and often appeared rather "snooty", which people mistook as a superiority complex. Of course, he knew it to be the opposite, as she had never recovered from losing her husband, over twenty years previously. But Alan also knew that what really got people's backs up about Mrs. Devere was the fact that she never put anything into the collection trays during the services.

"Never, ever, not once in all my years, have I seen that woman slip so much as a penny into the box, even though she lives in that massive 10 bedroom mansion," he had overheard one of his parishioners grumbling to some friends.

If only they knew.

"Ahh, Mrs. Devere, always a pleasure to see you, dear lady. I trust you are well?"

"Can't complain," she said with her usual tired eyes.

"Would you like to come through to the Vestry? I have put the kettle on," he ushered warmly, but secretly he knew the answer.

"No thank you Vicar, I can't stop, my driver is waiting," she retorted uncomfortably.

"I can't thank you enough for your generous donation to the Church roof fund--"

"That is quite alright," Mrs. Devere said sharply, interrupting him and straining her neck to see if anyone else remained in the Church.

"It's alright," he reassured her, "we are quite alone, I checked."

"I have brought you my usual Christmas envelope," she said quietly, "to be used for the children's presents, and as usual, I would like it to be anonymous."

"Of course, and thank you for your incredible kindness and generosity. This always means so much to the children and their families at Christmas." His soft voice echoed ever so slightly round the stone building as he sat down next to her. "If it was not for you, we would not have a church to hold our Christmas Service in. £120 000 would have taken us years to collect--"

"My late husband always said that 'a church is the people, not the building, we are the body of Christ' he would say, 'physically doing His bidding on Earth.' But I've always questioned people, Vicar, even here. However, in my opinion, folks also got to have somewhere to worship."

"Somewhere you can join them?" he smiled.

"Poppycock! I could pray at home."

"So, why don't you," he pushed gently, taking her hand.

"Perhaps I will!" she said as she pulled away.

"You better not," Alan replied, trying a different (and rather radical tack), "What will we do if the heating goes on the blink this year?" he winked.

Mrs. Devere took one look at the hints of sarcasm on his beaming, bearded face and cracked a smile. It was the first time he had ever seen her smile.

"You're a cheeky one," she said as she stood up to leave.

"Won't you have a mince pie? I have some in the vestry."

"No thank you, Vicar, I must be on my way. Lovely service as always, thank you."

"No. Thank you! This Parish would not be the same without you," he replied, showing her to her waiting car.

More hard decisions to make, he thought to himself. Deciding which children should receive the presents we buy with the £1000 is always such a dilemma, but I am sure that, as usual, the Lord will show me how to fulfil his will.

As he returned toward the vestry, a sparkle from the tinsel wrapped around the Christmas Card Box on the table near the door, caught his eye, causing him to remember an incident that took place on this night last year. He removed a letter from the drawer of the Vestry table, to help him remember more clearly:

He had just finished his walk-round when he noticed a piece of lined paper sticking out of the Christmas card box. He was concerned that perhaps a letter had been detached from its envelope, but on inspection found there was no envelope. So, in order to deliver the letter to its rightful recipient, he carefully unfolded it and read the name of the addressee:

"Dear Jesus," it said.

Knowing he could not deliver the letter, he decided to read on:

"Hoppy Christmas!

And Hoppy New Years!

And Hoppy Birthday too!

My teacher said you live in heven. Is heven as pretty as my Mummy says? With lots of angles in white dresses? I was an angle in my school navivity.

I am writing to thank you for my Mummy. She is so lovely and I would really miss her if she had died from canker this year. My Daddy said it was really cloose as she nearly joined you in heven. It sounds really cool up there but I need her down here a bit more. She gives the best hugs ever, and reads storys best too, and she cooks better than Daddy.

Thank you,
lots of love,
Jimmy Harper Age 7

PS Please tell Santa to give my pressy to someone else as I have not beem very good this year as I was woried about Mummy, but I will try more next year as I might want a bigger bike then."

Alan's eyes sparkled as he finished reading the letter again, and he beamed with a knowing smile.

"Thank you Lord!"