ratzila

This has been around before - but still has meaning.
Santa's Prayer

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!"