A big truck loaded with hundreds of presents backed up to Rachel's Flowers and Gifts in Midtown on Wednesday.
Christmas had come to almost 50 kids in the rough-and-tumble neighborhood near the corner of Hollywood and Poplar.
For many, there would be nothing under the tree without the woman the kids call their godmother, flower shop owner Rachel Coats, and her longtime boyfriend, Harry Greer.
Rachel and Harry's months of planning, saving and shopping show up right here, with a computer printout of every child's name, age, clothing sizes and gift lists.
She knows that her tomboy, Dominique, 14, wants a basketball and has no use for a makeup set. She also knows that Quenton, 8, wouldn't want a skateboard but would love a Mad Lab science project.
Harry and Rachel's giving goes on 365 days a year. It's about so much more than Christmas presents.
They spend their money and their time making sure these kids have what they need. Nights, weekends, vacations, whatever it takes. Whenever the phone rings, they try to find a way to help.
They pay utility bills and run to the grocery store on their lunch hour for the family that has run out of money and food before the end of the month.
Harry even bought a house and rented it to a mom with nine kids on the brink of eviction from her two-bedroom apartment.
They give this next generation a little hope.
But Rachel, a whirlwind of a 50-year-old with a loud, contagious laugh, says, "I'm not a holy roller. I'm not a role model. I've been divorced two times, but I do care about the kids."
This all started four summers ago with Willie Sanders, then 13, who poked his head in every neighborhood business - from used car lots to convenience stores - along a declining stretch of Poplar, looking for a part-time job to buy clothes for school.
He asked Rachel, too.
"At first she said, 'Nah, come back later,' " said Willie, now 17, a junior at Central High. "But she finally caved in."
Rachel figured Willie would water some flowers and sweep the floor, and take his wages, never to be heard from again.
He came back the next day with his little brother, Brandon, now 9.
Then three kids would appear at Rachel's landmark shop - the store with all the statues next to the Sonic Drive-In.
Then four would come.
Then five, then six.
When somebody had a birthday, Rachel would get a cake.
She set up a TV in the back of the shop so the kids could watch videos and get away from their tiny, dark and crowded apartments.
No uniforms for school? Rachel would go shopping.
"I always wanted a bunch of kids. They fill a need for me," said Rachel, a White Station High graduate with one grown daughter.
The trunk of her 12-year-old Infiniti is always crammed with clothes from discount and thrift stores for the kids, age 3-18. This Christmas there are 63 names on the computer printout.
Late nights have found her at a nearby Laundromat, cleaning school uniforms after somebody's mother disappeared on a drinking binge.
Harry, 50, a widower with one grown son, takes the kids to see the Grizzlies, to Tiger basketball games and the circus.
Harry found the money for church camp for all the kids, and made the three-hour drive to Bethany Hills eight times for all the different age-group sessions.
A car wash paid part of the $4,000 in fees. Harry's friends and colleagues pitched in too.
The kids rely on Rachel and Harry to help with homework and school supplies. They are always hungry - for food and attention. The couple have never seen some of their parents.
"It's so easy to just write a check," said Harry, who operates Service By Air, an expedited air freight company.
"Don't just say you love your neighbor. Find a way to show them."
Rachel works six days a week with her mom and dad, Pat and Mark Hammond, in the 57-year-old family business that moved to the neighborhood 10 years ago.
Come Sunday it's mighty tempting to sleep in. But 9-year-old Sergio Hughes is bound to call by 7 a.m.
"Y'all going to church?"
Every Sunday, Rachel and Harry take scores of kids in their sweatshirts and baggy pants to worship services at Central Christian Church at Peabody and McLean.
Rachel grew up in this church, and Harry, a deacon here, was just named elder.
Through the 80-person congregation, the couple have become the portal for an ever-enlarging circle of philanthropists.
Friends, co-workers and church members now help the kids year round with donations of money, food, clothes and even tutoring.
It's an unlikely mixture, but the tiny congregation, made up mostly of grandmoms and granddads, have come to embrace somebody else's children, too.
Rachel first brought shy and polite Willie to church, just hoping to show him life outside the neighborhood.
"I want the kids to see there's something better than standing on the street corner," said Rachel.
"We believe in these kids, and if just one gets out of the rut they're in. . . ."
Susan Leigh, a childhood chum of Rachel's, is a member of Calvary Episcopal Church, but she's drawn to Central Christian and this unique ministry.
"Harry and Rachel give unconditional love," she said. "I see this as the hand of God."
Charles Woodall, pastor at the Central Gardens church for more than two decades, was amazed by the kids' first bell choir performance on a recent night.
Some didn't know any Christmas carols when they started practicing just days before.
"They've brought new life into our church. Sure, they make noise, but thank God for all this noise."
The Celtic-style blue neon cross atop the sanctuary sat dark for years. It was turned back on in 1995 as part of the church's renewal effort.
The same could be said for the Friday night youth program, Blue Cross Kids.
Before Rachel brought the children, four or five kids would meet for crafts and a Bible story.
Now upward of 40 children hop on the van and wouldn't miss the Friday night fun. There's always a Bible lesson - Harry delivers a great one on the Good Samaritan.
At one gathering, Harry caught Krystal Poole's eye from across the room.
The 10-year-old is deaf and isn't as boisterous as the others vying for Harry's attention.
In sign language he said "I love you" and a huge grin flashed across the child's face.
At Blue Cross Kids, there's always plenty of food, maybe a treasure hunt incorporating life's lessons of kindness and faith and always basketball in the gym.
Jasper Hughes, 14, a ninth-grader at Kingsbury High and Sergio's brother, is at the age where he could go either way, finding family with gang members rather than church members.
But one recent Friday night he's singing: "I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart!" at Blue Cross Kids.
Later he had his tough-guy face on, saying: "I ain't doing nothing else. I'd rather be here than on the streets somewhere."
After church services, the van is always bound for McDonald's or Cici's Pizza, where it's routine to spend $125 on everybody's lunches.
Many kids had never been to a restaurant before they met Rachel, and they can't wait to eat.
Krystal passed a note to Rachel during a recent church service.
"Cici pizza. Yummy. We love you Rachel! From Krystal and Meicy."
Harry knows most wouldn't be so eager for church if there was no post-worship feast or church basketball team.
But that's how the Baptists got him into the sanctuary as a boy, convincing him they needed him on the church team. Willie is point guard and now has his sights on college.
Whatever it takes, Harry reasons.
"I can't help their parents," he said, "but we can start with their kids."
Yet they do help the parents.
Sergio and Jasper know that today their mom Sharon won't be able to get out of bed, weighed down by the pain of her past.
Before they met Rachel, the boys didn't even hope for gifts.
"I don't like Christmas," said Sharon, 36. "My mother was drunk. My dad was trying to molest me and I'm sitting on the side porch hungry.
"Christmas? I never had one."
Sharon's wounds are still wide open, but she tries to shield the kids - with Rachel's help.
"I tell her all the time, she's my angel," Sharon said, crying.
Rachel worked with Sharon late into the night to help her pass her driving test. She manages Sharon's money, so her disability checks go to rent and utilities on time.
When Sharon got evicted, Harry bought a four-bedroom, three-bath house on Manhattan and rented it to her.
They've helped her buy two cars, though the first one caught on fire and the other was just wrecked.
But Sharon, a recovering alcoholic, knows her kids won't be hungry anymore.
And today there will be presents for Sergio and Jasper and all the other kids.
Sure, Rachel and Harry get their hearts broken sometimes.
Harry has given kids bikes that were stolen within 24 hours, so now he keeps them at his Cordova home and lets the kids come out to ride.
One of the girls is pregnant and another failed a grade. Another has sickle cell anemia and Rachel has made many a trip to The Med with her. She frets that Larry, a high school dropout with weeks of job interviews and rejections behind him, will get so angry he'll give up. She practices handshakes with him and reminds him that baggy pants are a bad idea.
Just the things parents teach their children. As Rachel says, "We could be 50-year-olds just sitting and watching TV every night.
"We are the lucky ones."
Jerome Kennedy, 15, checks in with Rachel when he gets home from Fairview Junior High every day. Some days he'll call four or five times. Too often he's by himself and hungry.
"If I didn't find out about Rachel and Harry, I don't know what I woulda did."
When she's swamped with work it's hard to take time for his call. And as the number of needy kids on the list grows, from Willie to 50, Harry and Rachel are stretched even more.
When they delivered Thanksgiving Day food baskets to all the needy families, they got home and realized they had no dinner for themselves.
But Rachel can look into Krystal's eyes, and nothing matters more than the note in her pocket.
"We love you, Rachel."
- Aimee Edmondson: 529-2773
