Three years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at the Mayfair Mall in Wisconsin. The boy who must have been four years old or even younger, climbed up on his lap, and in his hand was a picture of a little girl.
"Who is this girl?" asked Santa.
"My sister, Sarah. She is very sick," he said sadly.
Santa glanced over at the grandmother who stood nearby, and saw her dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
"She very much wanted to come with me to see you. She is sorry that she couldn't." the little boy said softly.
As usual, Santa tried his best to be cheerful and encouraging. After asking the little boy what he wanted for Christmas, the grandmother came over to help the child off his lap, and started to say something to Santa, but halted.
"What is it?" Santa asked.
The old woman told her grandson to go and get his gift from one of the elves, and then turned to Santa saying, "Well, I know it's really too much to ask you, but...the girl in the photograph is my granddaughter... she has leukemia and isn't expected to make it through the holidays. Is there any way, Santa....any possible way that you could come see Sarah? All that she's been ask for, for this Christmas, is to see Santa."
Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave information with one of the elves as to where Sarah was, and he would see what he could do. For the rest of that afternoon, the thought which really bothered him was:
"What if it were my child lying in that hospital bed dying?"
After the day's visit-with-Santa ended, he asked who of the helpers the grandmother gave the information to about "a little girl named Sarah who is in the hospital". He then asked if any of the helpers knew how to get to the local Children's Hospital. Rick, the helper who got the information from the grandmother asked, "Why?"
Santa then told him of the conversation with Sarah's grandmother earlier that day.
"C'mon....I'll take you there," Rick volunteered.
Rick and Santa drove to the hospital. The information desk clerk told them which room Sarah was in and how to get there. Rick decided to wait in the hallway.
Santa peeked into the room through the partially closed door and saw the little girl in bed. The grandmother and the girl's brother he had met earlier that day were also in the room along with several other family members. A woman whom he guessed was Sarah's mother stood by the bed, gently stroking Sarah's thin hair off her forehead. The atmosphere in the room was somber with people talking in hushed tones. But Santa sensed the warmth and closeness of the family, and their love and concern for Sarah.
Taking a deep breath, Santa entered the room as he bellowed a hearty, "Ho, ho, ho!"
"Santa!" shrieked little Sarah. She tried to get out of her bed to run to him -- despite being attached to various tubes and monitors.
Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug. Sarah, the seven-year-old girl -- age of his own son -- gazed up at him with wonder and excitement. Her skin was pale and her short tresses bore telltale bald patches from the effects of chemotherapy. But all he saw when he looked at her was a pair of huge, blue eyes.
His heart melted, and he had to force himself to choke back tears.
Though his eyes were riveted upon Sarah's face, he could hear the gasps and quiet sobbing in the room. As he and Sarah began to talk, the family crept quietly to the bedside one by one, gave Santa a squeeze either in his shoulder or his hand and a whispered "thank you".
Santa and Sarah continued their chat. She told him excitedly the things she wanted for Christmas.
Knowing how sick the girl, Santa decided to end their time together, but somehow Santa felt a strong urge to pray for Sarah. He asked permission from the girl's mother if it would be all right to do so. She nodded in agreement and the entire family circled around Sarah's bed. As each one held hands, Santa looked at Sarah and asked her if she believed in angels.
"Oh , yes, Santa...I do!" she exclaimed.
"Well, I'm going to ask that angels watch over you," said Santa.
Laying a hand on Sarah's head, Santa prayed. He asked God to touch little Sarah, and heal her, if it is His will. He also asked that angels watch over her.
When he finished praying, he started singing, "Silent Night, Holy Night."
The family joined in and as tears of hope mixed with tears of joy flowed. Sarah beamed with joy.
After the song ended, Santa sat on the side of the bed again and took Sarah's frail, small hands in his as he said authoritatively, "Now, Sarah, you have a job to do, and that is to concentrate on getting well. I want you to have fun playing with your friends this coming summer, and I expect to see you at my house at Mayfair Mall this time next year!"
He knew it was a risky proclamation to the little girl with terminal cancer, but he felt that "had" to give her the greatest gift he could -- not dolls, games or toys -- but the gift of healing and hope.
"Yes, Santa!" Sarah replied.
He leaned down, kissed her on the forehead, and left the room.
Out in the hall, the minute Santa's eyes met Rick's, a look passed between them and they wept unashamedly. Sarah's mother and grandmother slipped out of the room quickly and rushed to Santa's side to thank him.
"My only child is the same age as Sarah," he explained quietly. "So, I felt thatthis is the least I could do."
They nodded with understanding and hugged him.
One year later, Santa was back on the set in Milwaukee again for his six-week, seasonal job which he so loves to do. Then one day a child came up to sit on his lap.
"Hi, Santa! Remember me?"
"Of course, I do," Santa proclaimed as he smiled down at her.
After all, the secret to being a "good" Santa is to always make each child feel as if he or she were the "only" child in the world at that moment.
"You came to see me in the hospital last year!"
Santa's jaw dropped.
Tears immediately sprang in his eyes, and he grabbed this little miracle and held her to his chest. "Sarah!" he exclaimed. He scarcely recognized her. Her hair had grown long and silky and her cheeks rosy -- quite different from the little girl he had visited just a year before. He looked over and saw Sarah's mother and grandmother in the sidelines smiling and waving and wiping their eyes.
That was the best Christmas ever for Mark, the make-believe Santa Claus. He had witnessed -- and had been blessed to be instrumental in bringing about -- a genuine miracle of healing and hope. The precious little child was healed -- cancer-free, alive and well. Mark looked up towards heaven and whispered under his breath, "Thank you, Father, for this truly very merry Christmas!" -Author Unknown
Life is God's gift to you. How you live it is your gift to God, to your loved ones, and to yourself.
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