Chicken Soup for the Soul Christmas (24 page)

Several years had passed since I had made an effort to support a needy child at Christmas with a gift. True, I donated monetarily and gave food, but I had forgotten about the gifts. I had forgotten about Anthony.

So, there I stood in front of that display, with years of Christmas memories dancing around those boxes of race cars. There was only one thing left to do. I made a few tactical adjustments in the contents of my overflowing shopping cart and then deposited one huge box containing a race-car track next to the baby doll and headed toward the checkout.

As I left the store, one of the young Marines helped me put the boxes in the bins just outside the door. “Thank you very much, Ma'am. Have a happy holiday.”

“It's a pleasure,” I replied. “It's for Anthony.” Then I gave him a slightly embarrassed smile and said to myself,
It's
really nothing. I should do more. I should always do more.

“Oh, and by the way, young man, have a very Merry Christmas!”

Valerie J. Frost

Christmas Memories in a Hospital

Thousands of glistening lights on a gigantic Christmas tree brighten the sky. Toy soldiers surround the entry, and it looks enchanting! However, this is not your typical building. It is a hospital—Children's Medical Center (CMC) of Dallas—where many children are extremely sick. As we enter, I think it must be a place filled with hopelessness and despair.

I fight back tears as we admit my daughter. Rebekah has cystic fibrosis and is hospitalized often. However, now she has double pneumonia and bronchitis and might be hospitalized through Christmas. My daughter must be on strong antibiotics and receive breathing treatments to clear her congested lungs. But how can she stay in the hospital during December? I am distraught as I focus on all of the activities she will miss. Will she get well enough to go home in time for Christmas?

Christmas is a time of celebration! My family has wonderful traditions in December. But since Rebekah is in the hospital, how can we celebrate? She will miss family parties, school festivities, last-minute shopping, decorating our tree, and the candlelight Christmas Eve celebration at our church. I am depressed as my husband, Nolan, and I take Rebekah's personal belongings to the small sterile room that will be her home for the next ten to fourteen days.

Nurses immediately enter Rebekah's room to calm her fears and begin the strong medications. My daughter amazes me with her smiles and jokes with nurses and respiratory therapists, despite the fact that she is so sick. Nurses decorate the room with tinsel and open the curtains to show our daughter the Christmas tree and lights below. Rebekah is thrilled and proclaims, “This is the most perfect room.”Her courage brings tears to my eyes because she is so determined to make the best of the situation.

During the next few days, family and friends begin arriving at the hospital, bringing encouragement and Christmas cheer. Rebekah receives numerous cards and calls. My sister, Sharron, brings a miniature Christmas tree with twinkling lights, as well as tiny decorations and videos for Rebekah to watch. Randy, my brother, sends a huge floral arrangement. Christmas music on a tape player allows us to listen to holiday music all day long. My son, Bryant, lets his little sister win game after game, much to her delight! My amazing daughter is joyful and appreciative of each act of kindness. But I still bemoan the many activities we are missing.

Family tradition is kept alive when my sister-in-law, Marilyn and my nieces arrive with cookies, icing, and colorful sprinkles for a cookie-decorating party. The cousins always decorate cookies together each Christmas, and this year the tradition continues, even in the hospital. The four cousins squirt each other with icing and vie to make the most creative cookie. Our family laughs and giggles, and I see for the first time that we can have fun—even in the hospital.

Nurses tell us that celebrities will be at the hospital the next week, but I don't really care. I just want to get Rebekah home! However, the pneumonia has a strong hold and keeps my courageous daughter in the hospital longer than anticipated. Sleepless nights, painful needles, and constant medications make the hospitalization difficult.

To our surprise, members of the Dallas Cowboys visit the hospital. Huge football players take time to attend a special event, meeting patients and talking with each child individually. Rebekah has her picture taken with Herschel Walker, Darryl Johnston, and Tony Casillas, just to name a few. And we are touched when Herschel carefully pulls children close to him for pictures. I wish everyone could see the gentle side of our sports heroes, who carefully hug sick children and talk in soft voices. For a few moments, sick children forget their pain and illnesses while celebrities focus on them. Tears stream down my face as I witness compassion and tenderness from the huge football players. These mighty players, who knock men to the ground during a game, joke with children who have tubes and IVs attached and ever so tenderly hug each child. For a moment, I forget we're in a hospital.

Other exciting events occur that help me understand the true meaning of Christmas. Another day, members of the Texas Rangers baseball team spend a morning autographing pictures and visiting with sick children. Also, numerous deliveries of toys and gifts are made to each room from a variety of businesses. Santa Claus surprises each child, and Christmas carolers comprised of police officers sing to the children. One day, fingernail painting and hair styling is provided by a group of beauticians. Rebekah chooses bright purple polish for her nails.

Through the Troy Aikman Foundation, a wonderful and educational entertainment room was recently completed. Aikman's End Zone features computers that allow hospitalized children to chat with kids in other children's hospitals around the nation. Rebekah loves spending time in the room, and especially communicating with other sick children. The staff at CMC is determined to create an environment to promote healing.

So, even though Rebekah is very sick, she is not bored. My daughter is filled with hope and happiness. In fact, through the efforts of volunteers, sports heroes, and dedicated doctors and nurses, Rebekah has an amazing attitude. One night, Rebekah says, “Mom, I feel so special because so many people help children in the hospital!”

Finally, we receive the good news that our daughter will get to go home on Christmas Eve. It is a miracle because, days earlier, her body had been ravished with fever and pneumonia. Now, she is well! My heart is filled with gratitude toward all who helped. God has healed Rebekah. And again I am thankful for the power of prayer to our great and mighty God.

Was it just the medications that healed her, or the hope, encouragement, and prayers she received from so many? All I know is that when we left the hospital,we looked back to see the same twinkling lights, enormous Christmas tree, and toy soldiers at the entrance. But now the hospital no longer seems a place of despair, but a place filled with hope, healing, and cherished Christmas memories.

Marilyn Phillips

The Sound &Spirit of Christmas Through the Ears of a Deaf Woman

C
hristmas is not just a day, an
event to be observed and speedily forgotten.
It is a spirit which should permeate
every part of our lives.

William Parks

Each June, Nashville plays host to thousands of fans, who descend upon Music City to meet their favorite superstars at the Country Music Association's Fan Fair. As John Berry's publicist at the time, I accompanied the country superstar to this event in 1997. Little did I know that the sound and spirit of Christmas would find me a little early that year.

In a booth resembling his front porch on his Georgia farm, John sat in a rocking chair inviting fans to do the same in another rocking chair beside him. As I stood to the side, silently observing the scene, fans filed onto the porch.

From that stream of fans, one very special woman would capture all of our hearts as she reminded us that the spirit of Christmas is not confined to any one time of year or place or type of sound. We onlookers witnessed a Christmas miracle as thousands of others swirled around us.

Her name was Mary.
*
Mary was deaf, with only themost microscopic traces of sound penetrating her quiet world. John was her favorite singer, and she had come to present him with a request unlike any he had ever received before. Although deaf,Mary's other sharpened senses allowed her to celebrate the world in a manner beyond the comprehension of most people. She absorbed music, not through the hearing world's intricate system of hammers, anvils, and stirrups, but rather through her fingertips.

As we watched, Mary sat in the rocking chair next to John and explained to him how she would gently put her hands on stereo speakers and experience his music through the vibrations.

In this surreal environment, amidst a whirlwind of a million flashbulbs, concerts, and autograph sessions, Mary asked for the greatest gift one person can give to another—the loving gift of self.

“Will you please sing ‘O Holy Night' for me?” Mary requested in a humble voice, which had been trained long before her ears had gone silent. “It's my favorite song.”

The classic Christmas song had long ago become one of John Berry's signature tunes.

Once John understood the enormity and unique nature of this request, he simply looked into Mary's eyes and replied, “I would be honored.”

Closing her eyes, Mary gently placed her hands on John's throat. John gazed intently at his audience of one and, in his best a capella, began to sing the song that is traditionally reserved for Christmas Eve.

“O holy night, the stars are brightly shining. It is the night of our dear Savior's birth. . . .”

For us onlookers, Mary was what I call an earthly angel, who had been sent to teach us a lesson about the universal spirit of Christmas and living. Few words were spoken during those moments other than the unforgettable lyrics
John was singing.

“Now long lay the world, in sin and error pining, till he appeared and the soul felt its worth. . . .”

I was merely a spectator, who was blessed, perhaps even divinely chosen, to stand in the larger audience surrounding the booth that day. We all stood quietly around the porch for this inspired performance, which was so removed from the revelry just a few feet beyond us.

Tears slipped from Mary's clutched eyes, gracefully sliding down over her cheeks. John's own eyes sent tears flooding forth as his powerful tenor voice held strong.

“A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn. . . .”

As we watched, the strength and devotion of Mary touched each one of us in a special place deep within our souls. She granted us the privilege of being a part of her world for an exceptional instant. In those brief few moments, Mary allowed us to travel with her on an incredible journey to a sacred place and back, culminating with John's vibrant conclusion.

“Fall on your knees, oh hear the angel voices, oh night divine, oh night when Christ was born, oh night divine, oh night, oh night divine.”

My mortal emotions silently beckoned for this moment to continue endlessly. However, these special moments, by mere design of nature, are not meant to last. I later grew to understand that these impermanent moments are meant to glimpse at and savor as they soar by us and through us like the shooting star that brilliantly blazes and then fades into ebony, bequeathing the fortunate viewer with an indelible impression and inspiration.

In the silence that followed, Mary opened her eyes and stared into John's eyes for a moment. Then she simply said, “Thank you,” as she quietly stood and walked off the front porch, asking for nothing more.

John sat silently for a few moments, staring at Mary as she walked away.

As quietly and as unexpectedly as she had entered into each of our lives, Mary was once again enveloped by the immense crowd bustling back and forth in search of their own shooting stars.

I, too, would later blend into that crowd, but along with everyone else who had been swept away by Mary and John, I took with me an unlikely Christmas gift that afternoon. I learned that we need not experience the spirit of Christmas only on that day. Rather, it is with us every day if we open ourselves to experiencing and understanding these rare moments of inspiration.

Only fate knows if Mary and John and, indeed, the rest of us will ever cross paths again. The same divine fate that momentarily joined us suggests that we will not, but ours is a connection beyond this world now; it is a part of our eternal beings. Everyone who stood around that front porch in the sweltering heat on that long ago June afternoon in Nashville will forever share a precious bond for which we each, most especially Mary, gave one another a small piece of ourselves before traversing back into our individual worlds.

John E. Schlimm II

*
For privacy, the woman's name has been changed to Mary.

The Matchless Gift

T
hose who wish to sing always find a song.

Proverb

After my second graders completed reciting the “Pledge of Allegiance,” they settled back in their seats. But Duane remained standing. Duane was an exceptionally bright and lovable student, but his home life was far from perfect.