Dot Sanchas

I remember awakening on Christmas morning,
wandering to our shabby Christmas tree,
wondering if there would be anything for me.
I had seen no gifts, wrapping paper, or bows.
Nothing about my seventh Christmas season
had been bright or cheerful that I recall.

A knock on the door resulted in puzzled glances,
wonder shared between mother and father.
The big door was slowly pulled open by dad.
There stood the infamous man in the red suit
carrying a large bag of brightly wrapped gifts.
Behind Santa was a lady with a big box of food.

I must confess I do not remember her as a person,
but as a vague bright light with a halo of white hair.
A friendly, cheerful smile and a kind word were given,
along with a toy and warm mittens for each of us.
Mother cried at such a windfall in a lean year,
assuring we gave a thank you and hugs in return.

Dot Sanchas, the lady who brought Santa Claus
to our poor house when I was seven died on 28 October.
She was buried far away in my old hometown,
so I did not make it to her funeral to say goodbye.
Instead I thanked The Lord for this beautiful lady
who has meant light and hope to so many.

Dorothy, you gave my family so much more
than a sack full of wrapped toys long ago.
You gave us the fruit of human kindness,
nurtured in your loving, Christian heart.
You taught me that the season is for giving,
just as God gave his only Son that others may live.

For those of you who still carry the torch
Ms. Sanchas lit, I thank you and praise you.
Remember there is always human need and poverty.
Thank you for keeping her dream of giving alive.
May God bless and watch over you
as you help others on Christmas and every day.