Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Boxing day and all the celebrations of the various cultures...may peace be with us all!
A Christmas Story....
When four of Santa's elves got sick, the trainee elves did not produce
toys as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel the
pre-Christmas pressure. Then Mrs. Claus told Santa her Mother was coming to
visit, which stressed Santa even more.
When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were
about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out,
Heaven knows where. Then when he began to load the sleigh, one of the
floorboards cracked, the toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were
scattered. So, frustrated, Santa went in the house for a cup of apple cider
and a shot of rum.
When he went to the cupboard, he discovered the elves had drank all
the cider and hidden the liquor. In his frustration, he accidentally
dropped the cider jug, and it broke into hundreds of little glass pieces
all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found the mice had
eaten all the straw off the end of the broom.
Just then the doorbell rang, and irritated Santa marched to the door,
yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big Christmas
tree. The angel said very cheerfully, "Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't this a
lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where
would you like me to stick it?"
And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas
tree.
And one more....
Three years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at
Mayfair Mall in Wisconsin . The child climbed up on his lap, holding a
picture of a little girl. "Who is this?" asked Santa, smiling. "Your
friend? Your sister?"
"Yes, Santa," he replied. "My sister, Sarah, who is very sick," he
said sadly.
Santa glanced over at the grandmother who was waiting nearby, and saw
her dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
"She wanted to come with me to see you, oh, so very much, Santa!" the
child exclaimed. "She misses you," he added softly.
Santa tried to be cheerful and encouraged a smile to the boy's face,
asking him what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas. When they
finished their visit, 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 warmly.
"Well, I know it's really too much to ask you, Santa, but ." the old
woman began, shooing her grandson over to one of Santa's elves to
collect the little gift which Santa gave all his young visitors. "The
girl in the photograph . my granddaughter .. well, you see .. she
has leukemia and isn't expected to make it even through the holidays,"
she said through tear-filled eyes. "Is there any way, Santa .. any
possible way that you could come see Sarah? That's all she's asked
for, for Christmas, is to see Santa."
Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave
information with his elves as to where Sarah was, and he would see what
he could do. Santa thought of little else the rest of that afternoon.
He knew what he had to do. "What if it were MY child lying in that
hospital bed, dying," he thought with a sinking heart, "this is the
least I can do."
When Santa finished visiting with all the boys and girls that evening,
he retrieved from his helper the name of the hospital where Sarah was staying.
He asked the assistant location manager how to get to Children's Hospital.
"Why?" Rick asked, with a puzzled look on his face.
Santa relayed to him the conversation with Sarah's grandmother earlier
that day. "C'mon ... I'll take you there," Rick said softly.
Rick drove them to the hospital and came inside with Santa. They found
out which room Sarah was in. A pale Rick said he would wait out in the hall.
Santa quietly peeked into the room through the half-closed door and saw
little Sarah on the bed. The room was full of what appeared to be her
family; there was the Grandmother and the girl's brother he had met
earlier that day. A woman whom he guessed was Sarah's mother stood by
the bed, gently pushing Sarah's thin hair off her forehead. And
another woman who he discovered later was Sarah's aunt, sat in a chair
near the bed with weary, sad look on her face. They were talking
quietly, and Santa could sense the warmth and closeness of the family,
and their love and concern for Sarah.
Taking a deep breath, and forcing a smile on his face, Santa entered
the room, bellowing a hearty, "Ho, ho, ho!"
"Santa!" shrieked little Sarah weakly, as she tried to escape her bed
to run to him, IV tubes in tact.
Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug. A child the tender
age of his own son -- 9 years old -- 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 of the women in the
room. As he and Sarah began talking, the family crept quietly to the
bedside one by one, squeezing Santa's shoulder or his hand gratefully,
whispering "thank you" as they gazed sincerely at him with shining
eyes. Santa and Sarah talked and talked, and she told him excitedly
all the toys she wanted for Christmas, assuring him she'd been a very
good girl that year. As their time together dwindled, Santa felt led
in his spirit to pray for Sarah, and asked for permission from the
girl's mother. She nodded in agreement and the entire family circled
around Sarah's bed, holding hands. Santa looked intensely 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,! "he said. Laying
one hand on the child's head, Santa closed his eyes and prayed. He
asked that God touch little Sarah, and heal her body from this disease.
He asked that angels minister to her, watch and keep her. And when he
finished praying, still with eyes closed, he started singing softly,
"Silent Night, Holy Night . all is calm, all is bright." The family
joined in, still holding hands, smiling at Sarah, and crying tears of
hope, tears of joy for this moment, as Sarah beamed at them all. When
the song ended, Santa sat on the side of the bed again and held Sarah's
frail, small hands in his own.
"Now, Sarah," he said authoritatively, "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 summer, and I expect to see you at my house at
Mayfair Mall this time next year!" He knew it was risky proclaiming
that, to this little girl who had terminal cancer, but he "had" to. He
had to give her the greatest gift he could -- not dolls or games or
toys -- but the gift of HOPE.
"Yes, Santa!" Sarah exclaimed, her eyes bright.
He leaned down and 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 unashamed. 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. "This
is the least I could do." They nodded with understanding and hugged
him.
One year later, Santa Mark was again back on the set in Milwaukee for
his six-week, seasonal job which he so loves to do. Several weeks went
by and then one day a child came up to sit on his lap. "Hi, Santa!
Remember me?!"
"Of course, I do," Santa proclaimed (as he always does), smiling down
at her.
After all, the secret to being a "good" Santa is to always make each
child feel as if they are 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, for her hair was long and silky and her cheeks were
rosy -- much 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 Santa Claus. He had witnessed
--and been blessed to be instrumental in bringing about -- this miracle of hope.
This precious little child was healed. Cancer-free. Alive and well.
He silently looked up to Heaven and humbly whispered, "Thank you, Father.
'Tis a very, Merry Christmas!
When evil is allowed to compete with good, evil has an emotional populist appeal that wins out unless good men & women stand as a vanguard against abuse.
, we're off out later today to buy a 'real' xmas tree and no doubt stress levels will be high this evening when we attempt to put up the decorations with the help of a certain 17 month old handsome chap 
. My first Christmas Eve without work for ten years so it's surely typical that my woman HAS to work this xmas eve...who on earth would want to go to the gym on xmas eve anyway?
. Isnt it always the case that one appreciates the moment when that moment is all too fleeting?
