I crouched next to the concrete patio, dressed in my slacks, heels, and a scarf that matched my blouse and coat, wishing vainly for a hammer. All I had was a metal rod, and I hoped it would be strong enough to do the job. What option did I have anyway? There was no one around to help me; I took a deep breath.

Brenda,* a shut-in, Bible study drop-offs contact who used to be connected with the church in another state until some sort of misunderstandings pulled her away, she has been warming up to me over the past few visits. Every week I find her sitting in the same chair, facing her apartment's north-side sliding door that opens onto the patio. It seems she sits there most of the time, taking in the never-changing view.

As with my other contacts, I've tried to pay attention to any little clues about her interests; two large bags of birdseed gave that one away, so I asked if she was a birdwatcher. Usually, yes, however she explained that her bird-feeder had been taken down a while back for some repairs to be done to her apartment.

And so it was that I came to be crouched down beside Brenda's concrete patio, dressed in my high heels and matching professional attire, pounding one metal rod into the hard December ground with another metal rod for the bird-feeder pole. Maybe it was an interesting sight; I don't know. Maybe Brenda will enjoy reading her study guides when she is not watching the birds; I don't know.

I do know that it was precisely one week before Christmas, and I realized that sometimes smaller, ordinary, every day gifts of caring can mean more than the most beautifully wrapped package under a tree. Sometimes you don't need to deck the halls, you only need to hang a bird-feeder.