The children were finally sleeping,
all snug in their beds,
while visions of Nintendo 64 and Barbie,
flipped through their heads.

The dad was snoring in front of the TV,
with a half-constructed bicycle on his knee.
So only the mom heard the reindeer hooves clatter,
which made her sigh, "Now what's the matter?"

With toilet bowl brush still clutched in her hand,
she descended the stairs, and saw the old man.
He was covered with ashes and soot, which fell with a shrug.
"Oh great," muttered the mom, "Now I have to clean the rug."

"Ho-ho-ho!" cried Santa, "I'm glad you're awake."
"Your gift was especially difficult to make."
"Thanks, Santa, but all I want is some time alone."
"Exactly!" he chuckled, "I've made you a clone."

"A clone?" she asked, "What good is that?
Run along, Santa, I've no time for chit-chat."

The mother's twin. Same hair, same eyes,
same double chin. "She'll cook, she'll dust, "
she'll mop every mess. You'll relax, take it easy,
watch The Young & the Restless."

Fantastic!" the mom cheered.
"My dream come true! "I'll shop. I'll read.,
I'll sleep a whole night through! "

From the room above, the youngest began to fret.
"Mommy?! I scared... and I 'm wet."
The clone replied, "I'm coming, sweetheart."
"Hey," the mom smiled, "She knows her part."

The clone changed the small one, and hummed a tune,
as she bundled the child, in a blanket cocoon.
"You the best mommy ever. " I really love you."
The clone smiled and sighed, "I love you, too."

The mom frowned and said, "Sorry, Santa, no deal. "
That's my child's love, she's trying to steal."
Smiling wisely Santa said, "To me it is clear,
Only one loving mother, is needed here."

The mom kissed her child, and tucked her into bed.
"Thank you, Santa, " for clearing my head.
I sometimes forget, it won't be very long,
when they'll be too old, for my cradle-song."

In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six
hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their
father was gone. The boys ranged from three months to
seven years; their sister was two. Their Dad had never
been much more than a presence they feared. Whenever
they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway
they would scramble to hide under their beds. He did
manage to leave 15 dollars a week to buy groceries.
Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no
more beatings, but no food either. If there was a
welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that
time, I certainly knew nothing about it.

I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and
then put on my best homemade dress. I loaded them
into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a
job. The seven of us went to every factory, store and
restaurant in our small town. No luck. The kids
stayed, crammed into the car and tried to be quiet
while I tried to convince whomever would listen that I
was willing to learn or do anything had to have a job.
Still no luck. The last place we went to, just a few
miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel
drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop.

It was called the Big Wheel. An old lady named Granny
owned the place and she peeked out of the window from
time to time at all those kids. She needed someone on
the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the
morning. She paid 65 cents an hour and I could start
that night. I raced home and called the teenager down
the street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with
her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a
night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the
kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good
arrangement to her, so we made a deal.

That night when and the little ones and I knelt to say
our prayers we all thanked God for finding Mommy a
job. And so I started at the Big Wheel. When I got
home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and
sent her home with one dollar of my tip money-fully
half of what I averaged every night.

As the weeks went by, heating bills added another
strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy
had the consistency of penny balloons and began to
leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work
and again every morning before I could go home.
One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to
go home and found four tires in the back seat. New
tires! There was no note, no nothing, just those
beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up
residence in Indiana? I wondered.

I made a deal with the owner of the local service
station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires,
I would clean up his office. I remember it took
me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him
to do the tires.

I was now working six nights instead of five and it
still wasn't enough. Christmas was coming and I knew
there would be no money for toys for the kids. I
found a can of red paint and started repairing and
painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the
basement so there would be something for Santa to
deliver on Christmas morning. Clothes were a worry
too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the
boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair.

On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking
coffee in the Big Wheel. These were the truckers, Les,
Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe.
A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the
Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball
machine. The regulars all just sat around and talked
through the wee hours of the morning and then left to
get home before the sun came up.

When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on
Christmas morning I hurried to the car. I was hoping
the kids wouldn't wake up before I managed to get home
and get the presents from the basement and place them
under the tree.
(We had cut down a small cedar tree
by the side of the road down by the dump.)
It was still dark and I couldn't see much, but there
appeared to be some dark shadows in the car, or was
that just a trick of the night? Something certainly
looked different, but it was hard to tell what.
When I reached the car I peered warily into one of the
side windows.

Then my jaw dropped in amazement. My old battered
Chevy was full-full to the top with boxes of all
shapes and sizes. I quickly opened the driver's side
door, scrambled inside and kneeled in the front facing
the back seat. Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of
the top box. Inside was a whole case of little blue
jeans, sizes 2-10!
I looked inside another box:
It was full of shirts to go with the jeans.
Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes:
There were candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries.
There was an enormous ham for baking,
and canned vegetables and potatoes.
There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies,
pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of
laundry supplies and cleaning items. And there were
five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.

As I drove back through empty streets as the sun
slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my
life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will
never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones
that precious morning.

Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago
December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel
truck stop.

I BELIEVE IN ANGELS!

"Daddy", he said, his eyes full of tears,
"will you talk to me and quiet my fears?
Those bad boys at school are spreading a lie
'bout the impossibility of reindeer that fly.

There's no Santa Claus, they say with a grin,
there's not one now, and there never has been.
How can one man take all of those toys,
to thousands of little girls and boys?

But I told them, Daddy, that they were not right,
that I would come home and find out tonight.
Mamma said wait until you come home,
Please tell me now that I was not wrong."

His Daddy looked at his questioning face,
and puffed his pipe while his frantic mind raced.
He had put this off as long as he could,
he had to think fast and it better be good.

Whispering a prayer, he began with a smile,
"well climb on my lap, dear, let's talk for awhile."
"Remember at church how we learned to pray,
asking God to take care of us each day?

And you know how we say grace before each meal?
To this same God whom we know to be real.
Though we never see him, we know he is there,
watching his children with such loving care."

"God started Christmas a long time ago,
when he gave us His son to love and to know.
A spirit of giving came with that birth,
and God's generosity filled the whole earth.

Man had to name this spirit of giving,
just as he names all things that are living.
The name Santa Claus came to someone's mind,
probably the best name of any to find.

There is, you can see, and I think quite clear,
Truly a Santa who visits each year.
A spirit like God, who we never see,
he enters the hearts of your mother and me."

I've been a good Mom all year. I've fed, cleaned,
and cuddled my five children on demand, visited
the doctor's office more than my doctor, sold
sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to
plant a shade tree on the school playground and
figured out how to attach nine patches onto my
daughter's girl scout sash with staples and a
glue gun. I was hoping you could spread my list out
over several Christmases, since I had to write this
letter with my son's red crayon, on some notebook
paper I found in the laundry room between cycles,
and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:

I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache after a day of
chasing kids (in any color, except purple, which I
already have) and arms that don't flap in the breeze,
but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out
of the candy aisle in the grocery store.
I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.
If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like a car
with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music;
a television that doesn't broadcast any programs
containing talking animals; and a refrigerator
with a secret compartment behind
the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.

On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter
doll that says,"Yes, Mommy"
to boost my parental confidence, along with one potty-trained toddler,
five kids who don't fight,
and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the
way up without the use of power tools.
I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting,
"Don't eat in the living room" and
"Take your hands off your brother,"
because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range
and can only be heard by the dog. And please don't forget
the Play-Doh Travel Pack,
the hottest stocking stuffer this year for mothers of preschoolers.
It comes in three fluorescent colors and
is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making the In-laws'
house seem just like mine.

If it's too late to find any of these products,
I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb
my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating
food warmer than room temperature without it being
served in a Styrofoam container.

If you don't mind I could also use a few Christmas
miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be
too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable?
It will clear my conscience immensely.
It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to
help around the house without demanding payment
as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family;
or if my toddler didn't look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat
contraband ice cream in his pajamas at midnight.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing
and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door.
I think he wants his crayon back.
Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots
by the chimney and come in and dry off
by the fire so you don't catch cold.
Help yourself to cookies on the table,
but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.

Bobby was getting cold sitting out in his back yard in the snow. Bobby
didn't wear boots; he didn't like them and anyway he didn't own any. The
thin sneakers he wore had a few holes in them and they did a poor job of
keeping out the cold. Bobby had been in his
backyard for about an hour already. And, try as he might, he could not
come up with an idea for his mother's Christmas gift. He shook his head
as he thought, "This is useless, even if I do come up with an idea, I
don't have any money to spend." Ever since his father had passed away
three years ago, the family of five had struggled.
It wasn't because his mother didn't care, or try, there just never
seemed to be enough. She worked nights at the hospital, but the small
wage that she was earning could only be stretched so far. What the
family lacked in money and material things, they
more than made up for in love and family unity. Bobby had two older and
one younger sister,who ran the house hold in their mother's absence. All
three of his sisters had already made beautiful gifts for their mother.
Somehow it just wasn't fair. Here it was Christmas Eve already, and he
had nothing. Wiping a tear from his eye, Bobby kicked the snow and
started to walk down to the street where the shops and stores were. It
wasn't easy being six without a father, especially when he needed a man
to talk to. Bobby walked from shop to shop, looking into each decorated
window. Everything seemed so beautiful and so out of reach. It was
starting to get dark and Bobby reluctantly turned to walk home when
suddenly his eyes caught the glimmer of the setting sun's rays
reflecting off of something along the curb. He reached down and
discovered a shiny dime. Never before has anyone felt so wealthy as
Bobby felt at that moment. As he held his new found treasure, a warmth
spread throughout his entire body and he walked into the first store he
saw. His excitement quickly turned cold when the salesperson told him
that he couldn't buy anything with only a dime. He saw a flower shop
and went inside to wait in line. When the shop owner asked if he could
help him, Bobby presented the dime and asked if he could buy one flower
for his mother's Christmas gift. The shop owner looked at Bobby and his
ten cent offering. Then he put his hand on Bobby's shoulder and
said to him, "You just wait here and I'll see what I can do for you."
As Bobby waited he looked at the beautiful flowers and even though he
was a boy, he could see why mothers and girls liked flowers. The sound
of the door closing as the last customer left, jolted Bobby back to
reality. All alone in the shop, Bobby began to feel alone and afraid.
Suddenly the shop owner came out and moved to the counter. There, before
Bobby's eyes, lay twelve long stem, red roses, with leaves of green and
tiny white flowers all tied together with a big silver bow. Bobby's
heart sank as the owner picked them up and placed them gently into a
long white box. "That will be ten cents young man." the shop owner said
reaching out his hand for the dime. Slowly, Bobby moved his hand to give
the man his dime. Could this be true? No one else would give him a
thing for his dime! Sensing the boy's reluctance, the shop owner added,
"I just happened to have some roses on sale for ten cents a dozen. Would
you like them?" This time Bobby did not hesitate, and when the man
placed the long box into his hands, he knew it was true. Walking out the
door that the owner was holding for Bobby, he heard the shop keeper say,
"Merry Christmas, son." As he returned inside, the shop keeper's wife walked out.
"Who were you talking to back there and where are the roses you were fixing?"
Staring out the window,and blinking the tears from his own eyes, he replied,
"A strange thing happened to me this morning. While I was setting up things
to open the shop, I thought I heard a voice telling me to set aside a
dozen of my best roses for a special gift. I wasn't sure at the time
whether I had lost my mind or what, but I set them aside anyway. Then
just a few minutes ago, a little boy came into the shop and wanted to
buy a flower for his mother with one small dime. "When I looked at him,
I saw myself, many years ago. I too, was a poor boy with nothing to buy
my mother a Christmas gift. A bearded man, whom I never knew, stopped
me on the street and told me that he wanted to give me ten dollars.
"When I saw that little boy tonight, I knew who that voice was, and I
put together a dozen of my very best roses." The shop owner and his wife
hugged each other tightly, and as they stepped out into the bitter
cold air, they somehow didn't feel cold at all.