Always believe in MIRACLES!!

Always believe in MIRACLES!!

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, Sant a, 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
ho lidays," 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 Sar ah 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 in tensely 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 a nd
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 h e 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!"