• Hi Friend,
  
  I just read this sweet, sweet story and wanted to share it
  with you. I hope it touches your heart as it did mine...
  
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  "Santa, Can You Visit My Granddaughter?"
  
  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 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!"
  
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  ~ Paul
  http://www.ScenicReflections.com
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  December 21st, 2007 at 5:49 pm

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