...... we all believe in angels, and sometimes angels wear funny red suits.
-----------------------------

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!"



--
73, de Hans, K0HB
--
Homepage:
http://www.home.earthlink.net/~k0hb
Member:
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FISTS http://www.fists.org
LVDXA http://www.upstel.net/borken/lvdxa.htm

KØHB wrote:
..... we all believe in angels, and sometimes angels wear funny red suits.
-----------------------------

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.

Urban legend.

http://www.snopes.com/glurge/mayfair.asp

KØHB wrote:
..... we all believe in angels, and sometimes angels wear funny red suits.

(....snip)

Yes, Yes, Yes....we've all heard this yarn before as most hams
have ZERO creative ability spin the same bullship each year, so in
that mindset, I present to you:

THE REAL HISTORY OF CHRISTMAS !

HERE --- http://www.e-sheep.com/Saturnalia/

ENJOY (Best of all - It's real history folks...)