Being Santa Claus : What I Learned About the True Meaning of Christmas (9781101600528) by Jonathan Sal; Lane Lizard, Jonathan Lane

those kids, I just kneeled down next to them and talked at eye level, allowing Paul to take some wonderful photos.
    Some children felt embarrassed to have their picture taken because they had lost their hair. I would never force a photo on any child, but a few parents of some of the more reluctant children asked me if I could maybe convince their son or daughter to take a picture anyway. And so I would try a number of different approaches. In one case, I posed with my chin on top of a boy’s head, my beard completely covering up his baldness, which made him giggle.
    Another girl who looked to be around ten years old told me that she felt ugly without her hair. I responded in a soft and gentle voice, “You know, you don’t need hair to look beautiful,” and I took her chin and lifted it up to look directly into her pretty eyes. “I can see that you’re a very beautiful little girl. I bet your parents think so, too, right? They’d love to get a photo of you with Santa. And I’ll be honest with you: it would be a true honor for me to have a picture taken with such a beautiful little girl.”
    She smiled for the photo—a sincere and touchingsmile from the heart—and I caught a glimpse of her parents, off to the side, crying when they saw a joyful look on their precious daughter’s face as she sat next to Santa Claus. It was all I could do to keep from shedding a tear myself. None of these children, none of these families, deserved this misfortune. But I held myself together. Santa remained jolly for every child in that waiting area.
    After an hour, all the children there had spent their time on Santa’s lap, and Lisa came to take Paul and me upstairs to visit with the children who were in private rooms prepping for or recuperating from chemo and radiation. The children on that floor were all lying in beds, so I would sit down next to each one to talk for a while. I kept things light and happy without forcing cheer on anyone. I had learned early on that day not to ask these children what they wanted for Christmas. Most said, “I just want to get better,” and as much as I wished I could magically heal each and every one of those kids, that was a gift that was beyond Santa’s power to deliver. I would simply answer, “I hope so, too. I really do.”
    Many of the kids, remarkably, seemed to be in good spirits. One young teenager named Randy, however, had a huge chip on his shoulder—and with good reason. The chemotherapy treatments had left him weak, bald, and pale with dark shadows under his eyes, and he was generally miserable and angry. He scoffed bitterly at the idea of taking a picture with Santa.
    Randy’s father took me aside. “Santa,” he whispered, “this is really important to us. Can you please try to get him to take just one picture with you?”
    I looked into this man’s eyes and saw a world of anguish, and I knew I had to try. I glanced around the room and spotted my two lovely Santa’s helpers.
    “Those gals are really cute, aren’t they?” I said, pointing to them.
    Randy nodded.
    “And I’m sure you’d rather have a picture with the two of them, maybe one on each side with their arms around you? That might be fun to show your friends, don’t you think?” I looked at the attractive young doctors, who had been watching the whole time, and they nodded with big smiles.
    “Yeah, it would…,” Randy said, showing just the hint of a smile.
    “Well then, here’s the deal. You’ve gotta get through me first. One picture with Santa with a full smile from you, and then I send over my two helpers. You get to keep the picture with them, and your parents get the one with you and me. Deal?”
    “Deal,” Randy said, his smile widening. I posed for a picture with him grinning, and then my two helpers posed for a photo that I’m sure made Randy the envy of all his friends.
    On the way out, Randy’s parents stopped me, both with tears in their eyes. “We don’t know how to thankyou. This will