Clark was just pouring coffee when Lois walked into the kitchen, still tying her robe. On the table next to her spot sat the day’s advent calendar bag. He smiled, handing her a cup. “Morning, honey.”
“Morning,” she said, sipping the coffee with a pleased hum.
Lois picked it up and pulled out a small wooden figurine painted with the image of St. Lazarus. She turned it over in her hand, studying the details. “St. Lazarus? Isn’t he the one who… you know, came back from the dead?”
Clark nodded. “That’s him. But he’s also celebrated as the patron saint of the sick and poor. In Cuba, there’s a tradition tied to him - The Feast of St. Lazarus. On his feast day, people focus on helping those in need, especially by sharing meals or offering support.”
Lois traced a finger over the painted wood, her expression softening. “That’s a beautiful tradition. So… What’s your plan for today?”
Clark said with a smile. “I thought we could do something a little different today. Instead of cooking ourselves, I signed us up to help out at the St. Matthew’s homeless shelter downtown. They’re short on volunteers this morning.”
Lois glanced up, touched by the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. “Let me guess -you already cleared it with Perry?”
Clark grinned, his eyes twinkling. “He was surprisingly on board. Said it’d be great for the Planet’s community coverage. Plus, we’ll still have time to work on that charity scandal story afterward. Of course, he’s expecting a write-up about this too - something with that touchy-feely angle you’re so fond of in our pieces.”
Lois smirked, setting the figure carefully on the table. “Only because you’re by my side, farm-boy. Give me a minute to get ready.”
Clark chuckled, folding his arms. “Take your time. And don’t worry - you’re off kitchen duty today. We’ll be serving, not cooking.”
---
A little while later, Lois and Clark stepped through the front doors of St. Matthew’s. The warmth of the shelter enveloped them, a stark contrast to the biting chill of the December air. Inside, the place hummed with energy. Volunteers bustled about, setting up tables, stirring steaming pots of soup, and arranging trays of food. The comforting aroma of freshly baked bread floated through the air, mingling with the hum of voices and the subtle, less pleasant smell of the crowd gathered inside.
Lois paused just a step inside, her breath catching as the medley of scents hit her all at once. The sudden wave of nausea was unexpected, and she instinctively took a step back, her face briefly registering discomfort.
Clark’s brow furrowed with concern as he turned to her. “Everything okay, honey?”
“Yes,” Lois said quickly, forcing a reassuring smile. “It’s just… a lot to take in at first.” With a small shake of her head, as if willing the odd sensation to pass, she straightened and stepped forward, her hand brushing against Clark’s for support.
They were soon greeted by the shelter’s coordinator, a middle-aged woman with a warm, welcoming smile. “You must be the Kents,” she said, extending her hand. “Thank you so much for coming. We can always use more hands.”
“Happy to help,” Clark said. Lois nodded beside him, already rolling up her sleeves.
For the next few hours, Lois and Clark worked side by side, serving hot meals, pouring coffee and chatting with the shelter’s guests. Lois found herself smiling as she listened to people share snippets of their lives, their gratitude evident even in small gestures. Clark, as always, with his easy warmth and genuine kindness, seemed to put everyone at ease.
As they worked, Lois noticed an older man sitting alone at one of the tables, cradling a bowl of soup but not eating. After a moment’s hesitation, she approached him.
“Hi, I’m Lois,” she said, sitting down across from him. “Mind if I join you?”
The man glanced up, his weathered face etched with lines of hardship. “Suit yourself,” he said gruffly, but there was a hint of gratitude in his voice.
“How long have you been coming here?” she asked gently.
“Couple of months,” he replied, stirring his soup absently. “Lost my job last year. Hard to bounce back when you’re my age. Name’s Oliver, by the way.”
Lois smiled softly. “Nice to meet you, Oliver. For what it’s worth, I think it takes real courage to keep going, especially when things get tough.”
Oliver gave a faint smile, his grip on the spoon steadying. “Thanks for saying that. Most folks just look right past you.”
“Well, not today,” she said warmly. “Today, you’re important for me and my husband over there.” She indicated in Clark’s direction.
Watching from a distance, Clark smiled brightly as Lois brought a little hope to someone who clearly needed it.
During a brief lull, she leaned closer to him. “You know,” she said, her voice low, “it’s easy to get caught up in the chaos of work and forget what this season is supposed to be about. I’m glad you reminded me.”
Clark gave her a soft smile, his eyes full of affection. “It’s not about grand gestures or gifts. Sometimes, just being present and showing kindness is enough.”
She bumped his shoulder lightly with her own. “You’re a good man, Clark Kent.”
“And you’re not so bad yourself,” he teased, making her laugh.
