The Paper Bag Christmas by Kevin Alan Milne Page B

paper bag was no less than the single most valuable possession she had, and therefore, an undeniably excellent gift for the Savior. Or perhaps she was offering the Christ her own pride, exposing the scars of her own self-doubt at the feet of he who is mighty to heal. Whatever the case, I knew her sacrifice was more than I could fully appreciate, let alone articulate.
    As we walked slowly away from the manger, a voice in the audience began to sing. It was a woman’s voice with a familiar Southern accent, and she was singing in a faint, choked voice.
    “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.”
    I looked up to see Nurse Wimble, the bane of all patients and elves, standing in front of her chair, doing all she could to keep her composure as the words of the familiar tune broke free from her lips. Others soon joined in, standing one by one, and before we made it back to our spot everyone in the room was singing together.
    As the song progressed, the angels each began to follow Katrina’s lead, removing their paper bags, revealing the tears that stained their young faces.
    When the song ended the spotlight moved away from Katrina to a red and green blinking wheelchair making its way ever so slowly across the stage. Dr. Ringle, dressed as Santa, was headed for the microphone. Aaron was eager to hand it to him.
    “I’ve heard it said that the true meaning of Christmas has been forgotten, that the Christmas spirit is dead.” Dr. Ringle’s deep Scottish voice echoed through the hall. “I think our Christmas pageant this evening would suggest otherwise.” He reached up and removed the red and white hat from his head and rested it in his lap. “With that in mind, I would like to announce a slight change to our proceedings. Due to the fact that it would spoil an otherwise perfect evening, Santa Claus will not be handing out presents to the children here at this event. Instead, gifts will be delivered to each room individually later this evening. Thank you all for joining us here tonight. Merry Christmas, and God bless you all.”
    For some time afterward people just milled around the cafeteria wishing each other a Merry Christmas and congratulating one another for a great performance. I got the sense that no one really wanted to leave, that they somehow hoped the pageant and the feelings they felt would continue on indefinitely.
    Everyone, including grumpy Nurse Wimble, felt something special that night, something magical. Only it wasn’t magic at all but the true spirit of Christmas, and it left us all with a desire to be better people, to be more giving and forgiving, and to reach out to those around us in all their unique and varied circumstances.
    But all good things must come to an end, and eventually we had to go home. Aaron and I said goodbye to as many children as we could, wishing them all a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Even though our time volunteering at the hospital was officially over, we hoped to return again soon to visit all of our new friends.
    Katrina was especially sad to see us go, but she gave us both a big hug and wished us well.
    “Mo,” she said as we were leaving, “thank you.”
    I smiled, nodded, and then we went home to be together as a family for Christmas.

Chapter 13
    Somehow, not only for Christmas but all the long year through, the joy that you give to others is the joy that comes back to you. And the more you spend in blessing the poor and lonely and sad, the more of your heart’s possessing returns to you glad.
    —John Greenleaf Whittier
    I t was barely seven o’clock in the morning on Christmas day when we heard the sirens blaring outside our house. Dad and Mom were still making breakfast in their pajamas, and none of the presents under the tree had been opened yet.
    I peeked out through the kitchen window and saw Dr. Ringle waving frantically from the passenger seat of an orange and white ambulance.
    “Dr. Ringle is here!” I shouted. “Hurry up, he wants