Received via email from a friend...hope you are blessed by this as I was...I shall never forget.
Santa &
Sarah
Three years ago, a
little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at
the 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 u p 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!"
LIFE IS GOD'S GIFT TO
YOU ... HOW YOU LIVE IT IS YOUR GIFT TO GOD,
YOURSELF AND LOVED
ONES.
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