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A Beautiful Story
of a 'Santa' Prayer
(Knowing
whether or not this is a true story
is unimportant. What is important
is to know that many times God works
in mysterious ways His miracles
to accomplish)
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 into 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!
~ Author Unknown
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