Fog Blog Christmas Stories Log:

OUR FIRST STORY IS FROM DOROTHY GRANT OF HALIFAX......IT IS CALLED THE 'CHRISTMAS GIFT'.....It happened in late 1983, at a time in our lives when, for us, the prospect of Christmas had no meaning and the thought of having to cope with the excitement and joy that surrounded us was almost painful.People will understand why we were feeling this way when I explain that our beloved son David, who was only 11 at the time, was seriously ill, no longer responsive and had been a patient in the IWK Hospital for almost a year.Sitting by his bedside in the hospital, it was impossible to understand why before being diagnosed with a serious neurological condition, David had been a wonderful little boy who did extremely well in school, had constantly delighted us with his hugs and his caring personality such as the day he confided, "When I grow up Mom, I’d like to find a cure for cancer.” Having him and his older brother Ian in our family had made our life the most rewarding existence and we, like all parents, believed nothing would ever alter this treasured reality.Sadly, something very devastating did alter this reality, when in 1982, we learned David had an incurable disease. Soon our daily lives experienced a traumatic transition when in late 1982 he was admitted to the hospital, and we spent every day with him.The day I will never forget occurred very close to Christmas Day, 1983. As usual, I found myself sitting by David who no longer spoke and was very ill. Outside his room, the hospital ward was aglow with signs of the Christmas season. A large Christmas tree near David’s room was full of ornaments – many of which had been made by the young patients on his floor.The nurses’ station was trimmed with chains of bright bows, and charming tiny figurines such as elves and reindeer, which danced across the front desk. Christmas music filled the air and I knew in my heart that I should be finding the surroundings comforting, but I just couldn’t arouse this kind of reassuring feeling.As I was sitting there in the darkness, the door to David’s room opened and in came Sylvia Wedderburn who was the evening nursing supervisor. For almost a year, she had faithfully visited me when she was on duty and had a few minutes to see how I was doing.She had the loveliest, soulful brown eyes and also the most engaging personality. If anyone could cheer me up – a little – it was Sylvia.What surprised me was that just a few seconds after she arrived, she made what I thought was a rather strange announcement. She said, “I’m going away for Christmas but before I go, I want to give you a gift!"I immediately noticed she didn’t have anything in her hands and candidly, the last thing in the world I needed was a gift!As I sat there feeling rather confused, Sylvia began to sing a moving Christmas carol. She had a beautiful voice, which magically filled the room with a sound that was miraculously uplifting and truly inspiring.It overwhelmed me with a momentary but an astonishing sense of comfort and the awareness that I was in the company of someone who sincerely wanted to ease the hopelessness I had been experiencing.As her carol ended, she put her arms around me and with tears in her eyes, whispered that she would be thinking of David and me while she was away.I shall never forget Sylvia’s extraordinary gift because it taught me something so significant – that Christmas is not about material things but about demonstrating one’s love and caring for someone – especially when it is so greatly needed.I can only hope this Christmas, others will think of sharing her amazing kind of gift with someone who also deserves the precious message of human kindness it so tangibly represents.Sylvia’s gift didn’t even cost a penny, but for me it was priceless!