The Gospel Tree Tuesday
Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>
There once was a shining Christmas tree
Standing out where all could see.
Its brilliance captured every eye
And seemed to cheer each passer by.
"The lights are so bright," they would say
And hesitate to walk away.
The tree stood proud ablaze with light
For every light was burning bright.
Then some bulb was heard to say
"I'm tired of burning night and day;
I think I'll just go out and take a rest
For I'm too tired to do my best;
Besides I am so very small
I doubt if I'd be missed at all."
Then a child lovingly touched the light,
"Look, mother, this one shines so very bright.
I think of all the lights upon the tree
This one looks the best to me."
"Oh my goodness," said the light
"I almost dimmed right out of sight.
I thought perhaps no one would care
If I failed to shine my share."
With that a glorious brilliance came
For every light had felt the same.
Our Gospel, like this Christmas tree,
With little lights which are you and me,
We each have a space that we must fill
With love, and lessons and good will.
Let's keep our tree ablaze with light,
With testimonies burning bright.
For our Gospel is a living tree
That lights the way to eternity.
**************************
"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!
**************************
Have a Blessed Day
Dave and Barbara
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