Proof The Bible Is True

’Twas the day before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring—except for me and my cat, Mittens. It was just the two of us this year. I wasn’t sure what was worse—having a broken heart or becoming a lonely old cat lady.

 

My soon-to-be ex-husband had just picked up our 9 and 12-year-old sons, Patrick and Michael, to spend Christmas Eve at his new condo, as we had agreed.

 

“Mom, seriously, what’re you gonna do?” Michael asked as his father beeped the car horn from the driveway. “You gonna be okay?”

 

“Who, me?” I asked, forcing a grin. “I have the whole day planned, kiddo!”

 

A big fat lie. My plan was to eat a pint of rocky road and stay in bed all day.

 

Read More: A Merry Message Meant for Her – Guideposts