Even Santa Claus can be an instrument of God’s healing power

Years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at the Mayfair Mall in Wisconsin. The child climbed on his lap, holding a picture of a little girl. “Who is this?” asked Santa, smiling, “Your friend? Your sister?”

“Yes, Santa,” he replied sadly. “My sister, Sarah, who is very sick.” 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, Santa.” the child exclaimed. Santa tried to be cheerful and asked him what he wanted for Christmas. When they finished their visit, the grandmother came over to help the child off his lap, and started a conversation.

“I know it’s really too much to ask you, Santa, but my granddaughter has leukemia and isn’t expected to make it through the holidays. Is there any possible way that you could come see Sarah? All she wants for Christmas is to see Santa.” Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave information about Sarah’s whereabouts with his elves and he would see what he could 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.

When Santa arrived at Children’s Hospital, he went to her room and quietly peeked in through the half-closed door and saw little Sarah on the bed. The room was full with her family including 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. Taking a deep breath, Santa entered the room, bellowing a hearty, “Ho, ho, ho!”

“Santa!” shrieked little Sarah weakly. Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug. A nine-year-old child gazed up at him with wonder and excitement. Her skin was pale and her short hair bore the effects of chemotherapy. Yet all he saw was a pair of huge, blue eyes.

His heart melted, and he had to hold back the tears. Santa and Sarah talked and she told him excitedly about all the toys she wanted for Christmas, assuring him she’d been a very good girl.

As their time together dwindled, Santa felt he wanted to pray for Sarah, and asked for permission from the girl’s mother. She nodded in agreement and the entire family circled Sarah’s bed, holding hands. Santa looked intensely at Sarah and asked if she wanted to pray, “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 asked that God touch little Sarah, and heal her body from this disease. He asked that angels minister to her, watch over her and keep her. When he finished praying, he started singing softly, “Silent Night, Holy Night,” The family joined in, still holding hands, smiling at Sarah, and crying tears of hope and joy.

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 had given her the greatest gift he could n not dolls or games or toys n but the gift of hope.

He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and left the room. Sarah’s mother and grandmother slipped out of the room quickly and rushed to Santa’s side to thank him.

A year later, Santa was back in Milwaukee for his six-week, seasonal job, which he loved. 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. The secret to being a good Santa is to make each child feel as if they are the only child in the world then.

“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. He looked over and saw Sarah’s mother and grandmother in the sidelines smiling, waving and wiping their eyes.

That was the best Christmas ever for Santa Claus. He had become God’s instrument in healing this precious little child.

He silently looked up to Heaven and humbly whispered, “Thank you, God.”