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decorations hung by the staff made her aware that this would be her first Christmas away from home and family. She felt very sad. So to cheer up Gramma we told her we would bring Christmas to her. It was time to keep our promise.
    Gail and I came downstairs to the kitchen where Mum approved of our outfits and put the finishing touches on our hair. It was just a five-minute drive to the home.
    We entered the lobby area where the communal Christmas tree was lighted, but the hallways were empty, and our footsteps echoed hollowly in the stairwell as we walked to the second floor. When we passed the long line of beds in the ward, I noticed most of the patients were sleeping and that we seemed to be the only visitors. When Gramma saw us, she smiled and responded happily to our hugs and Merry Christmas wishes. She was enjoying the day! We had a wonderful time while opening gifts, telling tales of Christmas past, and even singing carols.
    Dad also noticed that few of the other patients had visitors. He remained quiet and seemed deep in thought while we continued to chat with Gramma. Then he excused himself and left the ward.
    He returned carrying some cartons of ice cream and paper cups from the cafeteria. He explained his plan:
    Christmas was a time for family to celebrate the joy of the season together with loved ones. If, for whatever reason, family and friends couldn’t be there for some of the other patients, then we would substitute and bring the spirit of Christmas to them. While Mum stayed with Gramma, the three of us went visiting. Dad took Gail and me across the hall and explained our mission to the nurse, who was more than happy to assist. He went back to visit with Gramma while the nurse took Gail and me around the ward.
    As a shy ten-year-old, I was very nervous at first. I didn’t know any of these people, and they didn’t know me. Sadly, some of them were a little confused and even uncertain about what was so special about this particular day. The nurse escorted me to the bedside of my first challenge and pointed out the patient’s name taped at the foot of her bed. After a moment’s hesitation, I summoned the courage to introduce myself and offer her some ice cream. Although the memory of her name has faded over the years, I still recall our conversation. She declined the treat, but smiled and told me she had a granddaughter about my age who lived out West. She asked me to sit and tell her what I got for Christmas, and when she found out it was my birthday, too, she hugged me!
    That first successful stop helped me overcome my stage fright, and as I moved from bed to bed, the heartwarming smiles and kind comments from each resident gave me confidence. I really began to get into the spirit of things. I especially remember my last stop.
    I had just two cups of ice cream left, and I was saving one for myself. The occupant of that final bed was a very frail-looking woman. A halo of soft white hair framed her heavily lined face, and her head was sunk deeply into the pillow. She appeared to be asleep. I sat in the chair beside her bed and said softly, “Merry Christmas. Would you like some ice cream?”
    Her eyelids fluttered and then opened wide, revealing a pair of bright blue eyes. She frowned, then fixed her gaze on me and spoke hesitatingly, “But I don’t have any money.”
    â€œThat’s okay,” I replied. “They’re free.”
    â€œOh,” she said, as a bright smile spread across her face, erasing decades of age, “then I’ll have two.”
    I opened both of the ice-cream cups, unwrapped a wooden spoon, and passed them to her.
    We talked while she ate.
    That was almost fifty Christmases ago, but I can still picture those sparkling blue eyes and recall the wonderful feeling that came from giving another the priceless gift of my time.
    Carol (Pearce) Forrest as told to John Forrest

The Nativity Story
    We stumbled upon the manger scene one December