Hey sweet friend,

I recently shared a chapter of An Ever After Christmas with the Front Porch Preview Team… because I was laughing so hard I was crying as I wrote it! 😅

Here’s just a glimpse of what they said:

Y’all are my people. ❤️🤗

Want to read the scene too? 🎄✨

December 14: - 14 days until the wedding

Sammy had dreamed of this moment for months.

Back in August, she’d written The Grove’s First-Ever All-Church Outdoor Nativity Pageant! across her sketch pad page, imagining children in awe, angel wings fluttering gently, and maybe even a few real animals grazing peacefully under the twinkle lights. The magazine clippings she’d glued around her brainstorming page were all calm and picture-perfect—soft light, smiling children, a star shining down in awe.

But now, standing in the middle of it all, Sammy was beginning to realize that under no circumstance did those polished images hint at the chaos bubbling just beneath the surface of an event like this one.

Here she stood—scarf flapping like a flag of determination, clipboard clutched like a lifeline, and a slightly wild look in her eyes that only appears when you’ve just run out of hot glue and there’s a halo that won’t stay put.

As she looked out at the lawn-turned-Bethlehem with fog seeping in from a youth group machine that wouldn’t turn off and a sheep making a very suspicious face near the cider booth, she whispered softly under her breath, “Please let the sheep behave. Please let the sheep behave.”

Twinkle lights wrapped every post. Booths stayed open late, offering everything from peppermint-bark popcorn to hand-stitched angel wings. Church members, family, and friends gathered in the green space, wrapped in blankets and sipping cocoa provided by the churches, as the cast—Willow Creek’s finest elementary-aged talent from all the local churches—took their places.

Jake added some folding chairs in the back and gave Sammy a thumbs-up. She exhaled and gave him a grateful smile.

Everything was going surprisingly well.

Until she got a tap on her arm.

“Um . . . Sammy?” came a whisper from stage right. “We can’t find the star.”

Sammy blinked. “What do you mean, the star?”

“The one the wise men follow,” said Mabel, a fifth-grade angel. “It’s not in the prop box.”

Sammy pressed a finger to her lips and took a deep breath, counting backward from five.

If this play were a song, it would be “Silent Night”—performed on kazoos by over-caffeinated raccoons. But she loved this little town, these precious kids, and this timeless story . . . and tonight, she was all in.

She crouched to Mabel’s level. “Okay. Deep breath. You checked the prop bin?”

“Twice,” Mabel whispered urgently, eyes wide and wings askew. “Unless the star’s shape-shifted into a packing peanut, we’re toast.”

Sammy let out a slow breath.

The nativity was still on track—for now.

She gave Mabel a reassuring pat on the arm. “Okay. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. Maybe . . . stall a little, if you can.”

“Like how?”

Sammy paused. “Have the shepherds do an extra bow. Or sing a second verse.”

“We only rehearsed one.”

“Then sing it very slowly,” she said, already scanning the crowd for Jake.

She spotted him near the cocoa table, chatting with a friend from the fire department.

She marched over and leaned in, lowering her voice. “We have a situation.”

Jake turned calmly. “How bad?”

“Worst case?”

He raised a brow. “A sheep goes rogue and eats Baby Jesus?”

Sammy exhaled. “Fair.” She fought a smile, then gave a conceding nod. “And no. But now, it’s the second-worst case. We’re missing the star.”

Jake gave her that quiet, steady grin that always made the world feel five degrees warmer. “You got a flashlight?”

Sammy raised an eyebrow, pulling it out of her bag. “Of course I do. What kind of amateur do you take me for?”

“Good,” he nodded confidently. “Because I’ve got an idea.”

Ten minutes later, the crowd watched quietly as an angel appeared before the shepherds and the children sang “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.”

Behind the stage, Sammy knelt in the grass with one hand braced against a crate and the other aiming her flashlight at a makeshift string above the manger scene. Jake stood at the back with a broomstick and a hastily repainted foil star duct-taped to the top—slightly leaning but ready to go.

As the shepherds exited stage right and the Wise Men took their cue, a hush settled over everyone.

“Look,” one of them cried, pointing. “A star!”

At that moment, Jake lifted the broomstick star high into the air from behind the stable—his face determined, arms steady. And from the shadows, Sammy clicked on the flashlight, sending a soft beam toward the star from behind, catching it just right.

For half a second, nothing happened.

Then the foil caught the light and shimmered—wobbly, glorious, and unmistakably homemade.

The audience gasped—then laughed.

It was wildly imperfect.

And it was absolutely holy.

A moment later, the local carolers—just passing through with song books and harmonies—paused nearby, watching the event.

The children began their final song, “Away in a Manger.”

The oldest caroler, a woman with snow-white hair and a voice like velvet, began to hum.

Then softly, slowly, her group joined in singing with harmonies. “Away in a manger . . .”

One by one, the whole audience joined in.

Sammy stayed focus on pointing the light as tears feel from her eyes. For all the glitter glue, for all the lists and plans, this was the part she could never script.

Jake’s silhouette stood tall behind the stable, holding that makeshift star like a shepherd holding hope itself.

The wind stilled. The lights twinkled.

And in the space between a giggle and a gasp, between a missing prop and a sacred song, the people of Willow Creek remembered what they had always known: Jesus doesn’t wait for perfect. He comes right into the mess. Into crooked stars and duct-taped hope. Into bathrobe shepherds and borrowed stages.

He brings peace—not after the chaos, but right in the middle of it.

And somehow, even the most tangled parts of life start to shine when they’re held in His light.

So fun, right?! Permission to share this with a friend who could use a good heart felt chuckle too. 😁

This sweet novella is my gift to everyone who contributes to Mission: Grace Amplified.

👉 [Click here to join the mission and claim your gift ]​

But tonight is the last night to join—after midnight, the doors close until next year.

hugs & grace,
Melissa Alyse ❤️

P.S. Y’all, this has been such a cool experience partnering with you to share these grace-soaked stories. Thank you so much for being part of this wonderful community and for those that have jointed the mission. THANK YOU! I can hardly wait to see what God does in 2026! 🙌❤️
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P.P.S. Permission to share this with a friend who could use a good heart felt chuckle too. 😁