Last year, the Shriners held their annual fundraiser, flying in kids from all over the world. Jen volunteered to help and ended up building this beautiful little playhouse for the event.

“About three weeks before the big day, she went to the Shriners Hospital to meet some of the kids and teach a few basic martial arts moves. After the session, she started chatting with this one little boy who was drawing like crazy.”

Sage pauses, his tone softening.

“‘Can I see what you’re drawing?’ she asked him.

“He smiled and slid his sketchpad over to her. The pages were filled with drawings of buildings. There were schools, firehouses, and all kinds of places.

“‘Oh, these are really pretty! Where are these buildings from?’ she asked, figuring he’d name his hometown.

“The boy’s eyes lit up, bright and full of something deeper than any kid his age should know. ‘These are pictures of Heaven,’ he said.

“Jen smiled at him gently. ‘They’re beautiful.’

“He smiled right back, just as brightly. ‘Oh, it will be,’ he said. Then he leaned in close, lowering his voice like he was letting her in on a big secret.

“‘Can I tell you something?’ “‘Of course,’ Jen said softly.

“‘The other night, my mommy and the doctor thought I was asleep.’ He leaned even closer and whispered, ‘But I wasn’t.’ Then he winked. ‘The doctor told my mommy I’m going to Heaven really soon. I’m really excited!’”

Sage pauses, looking down for a moment. “He said it with such joy, like he couldn’t wait.”

Everyone’s silent now.

“It took everything Jen had not to cry right there,” Sage says quietly. “So instead, she pulled him close and gave him the biggest hug of his life.”

“It’s a beautiful story,” Sage says, “and that’s as far as she ever tells it. But as my grandpa Donnie would say, ‘And now… Paul Harvey’s Rest of the Story.’

He leans back in his chair, his voice low and steady. “Later that same day, while she’s getting ready to head out, Jen goes back to see the little boy. She kneels beside him and asks if she can borrow his drawings, just for a little while, with the promise she’ll return them soon. The kid’s face lights up, and he nods right away.”

Sage pauses, glancing toward Jen, who’s already hiding her face in her hands.

“Now,” he continues, “keep in mind, Jen’s not exactly sitting around with loads of free time. She’s working two jobs. One at a factory, one as a part-time waitress helping her best friend Terri, and she still finds time to hang with us, which honestly qualifies as a third full-time gig, considering the chaos we stir up.”

That earns a few laughs from around the room, but Sage stays serious.

“Three weeks later, it’s the day of the big Shriners event. The kids are buzzing with excitement, waiting for the unveiling. A massive curtain hides the play area Jen’s been working on. She gathers all the kids around, the little boy right beside her. Then she grabs the rope and pulls the curtain back.”

He stops, the memory catching up to him. “Behind it isn’t just a playhouse, it’s an entire town. Every building, every shape, every detail the boy had drawn… brought to life. It stretches across the whole area.

Schools, firehouses, parks, all of it.” The room goes quiet.

“I was standing beside his parents,” Sage says softly. “They just broke down. You could hear those crying pure, joyful tears as they watched their son running from building to building, touching everything, his laughter echoing across the whole place.”

He looks down at his hands. “Jen told them the Shriners had a big team build it and she just helped a little. But I knew better. She came to me weeks before and had me turn the kid’s drawings into building plans. Then, somehow, working two jobs, helping Terri, hanging with us, she built that entire town herself. Never said a word. Never took a bit of credit.”