How's Your Day?

Believe in MIRACLES!!


This is better than ANY Christmas card I could send! A blessed
Christmas to you all!

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, 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 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 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!

If you believe in miracles you will pass this on..I did!