Merry Christmas,” we chorused as we bent down and handed the gift-wrapped packages to the children and the box of groceries to the mother, whose eyes widened with amazement. We then removed our boots and stepped inside. It was then that I looked around. The floor was worn but spotless. Neatly made beds occupied one corner of the room and the kitchen another. A small stove furnished heat.
As I turned back to the children, dressed in clean clothes, I noticed several green tree branches standing upright in a dirt-filled pot. A red cloth circled the base.
The room was silent as the children looked at their mother, wondering if the gifts were really for them. She put her arms around them and said in a choked voice, “I told you Santa Claus would come.”