I really never know if stories like this are true or not. But this one brought tears to my eyes and I just love it.
Grab a tissue! You’re gonna need it!
This one will bring a tear. But it sure makes you
appreciate life.
Santa and 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 a 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 intact.
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!”
