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the other as if he were in court, taking an oath. “Cross my heart,” he said with great solemnity. “You shall have two birthdays this year or my name isn’t Samuel B. York.”
    Eunice would be eternally grateful that Sam had not sealed his vow by saying, “Cross my heart and hope to die,” because her beloved husband died of a sudden heart attack one week later.
    â€œIt would have been unbearable to consider for even one fleeting moment that such a wish, regardless of how silly its intent, may have had anything to do with Sam’s sudden death,” Eunice said.
    Sam York’s unplanned and rapid departure from his well-ordered life would seem to have freed him from all earthly promises and commitments. However, according to Eunice, this was not at all the case.
    On her birthday, over two months later, Eunice York sat alone, feeling sad and depressed. Their only son had been killed in Vietnam. None of her family lived near, and the people they knew in Tulsa were mostly Sam’s friends and acquaintances and none of them knew it was her birthday. Of course there were a few close lady friends with whom she occasionally went shopping or played cards, but since her birthday fell the day after Christmas, she had chosen not to bother any of them about an additional celebration—and expense—during the holidays.
    With Sam in his grave for nearly three months, there seemed nothing for her to do other than spend a night in solitary misery.
    But amazingly, on that cold and icy night, a friend, Lorna, traveled across the city by bus to deliver a cake and a carton of ice cream to Eunice so they might celebrate her birthday.
    â€œHow . . . how did you know?” Eunice asked, unable to take her eyes from the sumptuous cake with candles, a floral design, and a personal greeting spelled out in frosting on its sides.
    â€œI don’t know if you’ll believe this or not,” Lorna began, a nervous smile on her lips. “I had just gotten home from work when it seemed as though I could hear Sam talking to me as if he were standing right there in the room with me. He told me that it was your birthday and that I should hurry out and buy you a cake with all the trimmings!”
    Eunice was stunned by her friend’s straightforward explanation of her birthday treat, but she didn’t feel like interrogating her any further. After all, it was Christmas, a time of miracles. And if anyone could come back from the other side to see that she received a cake on her birthday, it would be her beloved husband.
    Eunice and Lorna had no sooner finished a good-sized portion of cake and ice cream when Anita, the young woman who had been boarding with Eunice since Sam’s death, entered the front door and walked back to the kitchen carrying a box that contained a beautifully decorated birthday cake.
    Eunice shook her head in astonishment. “Anita, how did you know it was my birthday?”
    Anita smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “I was just walking by the bakery, and I saw this magnificent birthday cake in the window . . . and I just felt like buying it for you. I didn’t even know it was your birthday. I guess . . . I just thought I should buy it for you.”
    Eunice was certain that she had not mentioned the fact that it was her birthday to Anita, and the young boarder had never known Sam. “My husband kept his promise,” Eunice York said. “Somehow, through the miracle of Christmas, he saw to it that I received two special cakes for my birthday.”

D uring every Christmas season since he was a young adult, Bob Shortz of Dallas, Pennsylvania, has volunteered to work in some aspect of human services to provide for the needy and the homeless. For Shortz, the true meaning and magic of the holiday began on Christmas Eve 1958, when he was eight years old.
    â€œMy twin brother, Ned, and I were in the living room with our father, who was relaxing in his favorite