Holidays

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Christmas Sister
© 2014

by

Stephen A. Peterson


Growing up I was told by the priests, nuns and my parents that Christmas was a time of beautiful and wondrous miracles, when special and unusual acts and events occur. They also told me that God answers the prayers of little children if they ask Him for something that is worthy and good. I accepted these teaching to heart as marvelous examples of the goodness of God as well as the magic of Christmas.

In my 7th year of life, after my service as an altar boy, I went before Jesus then asked: “Jesus, can I have a baby sister for Christmas? That is the only thing I want. Thank you, Jesus! Bye!”

Just a 3rd grader, I had no idea as to how long one had to wait for a sister, what was involved—nothing. I just knew Jesus could do it. My teachers told me Jesus was able to do anything including getting a desperate 7 year old a baby sister. I put in my request just after Thanksgiving with the belief I done so in more than enough time.

I made sure I had some back up. So I went to the other person who made miracles happen—Santa Claus. When Santa Claus stopped in at our school and downtown in the department store, I made it a point to visit with him. In both instances, I cheerfully and early ran to the jolly old man to make my requests in spite being a little afraid of what he might say.

Santa asked: “What’s your name little boy?”

“Stephen!” I responded without hesitation.

“And what do you want for Christmas, Stephen?”

I spoke slowly and distinctly. “I want a baby sister for Christmas!”

“You want what?”

So I raised my voice then said more slowly. “I-WANT- A-BABY-SISTER!”

Santa looked at me with a smile: “So you want a baby sister? Hum. Let me see! I will have to check with my elves.”

“Why?” I asked. “You’re Santa Claus. I heard you can get anything. And you really like kids. That’s what my teachers told me.”

Santa Claus, still smiling, said: “I’ll work on this special request. Okay?”

“Great! I knew you could do it!” Satisfied I left with the knowledge that the most important people were on my side—Jesus and Santa Claus. I never turned around to check Santa’s expression. I am willing to bet he was relieved I was gone and out of his hair.

Throughout that December, I was the spirited happy person. I prayed without ceasing like the priests and nuns taught. I also tried to be as good as I could be. I avoided fights with neighbor boys, my brothers, cousins and classmates. I avoided chewing gum in class, being late for Mass and confessed every sin I could think of before God.

For the three and a half weeks plus before Christmas, I picked up any loose papers off the school floors properly disposing them. When the nuns asked for someone to erase the boards and get the chalk dust out of the erasers or anything else, I volunteered my services. In my excitement, I thought about the sins I may have committed. The only sin I thought I might have committed the weeks before Christmas was telling Pierre Readus to shut up and just sit down or else. Who did he think he was trying to move in my act to please Jesus and Santa?

At home, I stepped up my good works. I kept my area arranged, the floor clear of my junk and put my clothes away in the drawer without being directed by my parents to do so. In our household, the older boys had responsibilities. Myself, Gregory, Philip and Robert were tasked with sweeping the floors, taking out the garbage/trash, washing dishes/clothes, cooking with parental guidance and with taking care of our younger siblings (Timothy, Mark and Martin). I thought by doing extra work Jesus and Santa would see how sincere I was and would reward me with a baby sister. So when I did their work in addition to my work, Gregory told me he thought I was nuts; Philip would say “okay” and took off; Robert would say, “thanks”, smile at me probably thinking I was nuts as well. I never shared my true motives with anyone. To do so, I thought, might cause me to fall out of favor with Jesus and Santa.

Christmas Eve eventually arrived. All of us were excited about what we would receive for Christmas. For me, excitement would have been an understatement. The cold, snowy day brought a sense of complete and total accomplishment. I knew for certain that when I woke up Christmas morning there would be a basket beneath the Christmas tree with a baby sister in it. After all, I had the two greatest miracle workers the world has ever known on my side. I also recalled the nuns who taught me saying: “Ask and you WILL receive. Knock and it will be opened to you.” Well I really had been asking for a baby sister since the twins were born and that seemed like a long time ago. But that knocking part was a problem. I did not recall knocking on anything except that kid that took my dictionary. I got the dictionary back but my joy and anticipation was overcome with doubt and concern. “Would this be a problem with Jesus and Santa”?

Since I broke my Mickey Mouse watch months ago and unable to replace it, I had to rely on other time pieces to get the time. I had not made my first confession yet. That would not occur until the spring. Maybe I could get on over to the rectory and tell a priest that I beat up this kid who tried to take my dictionary and be right with Jesus. There was no clock on the wall so I went to my grandmother to find out what time it was. Grandma told me it was past 6:00 PM and the church and rectory was locked up in preparation for Midnight Mass. When given this information, my heart sank. Then I thought that maybe I could talk to Jesus about my problem. So I went away to the quiet of my bedroom and said to Jesus: “Jesus, I’m wondering if you can forgive me for beating up Melvin Bolden. I’m sorry for giving him a fat lip and kicking him. I didn’t mean it! I promise I will try to be nicer when I beat up someone the next time it happens. Besides, Jesus, it was not all my fault. Melvin took my dictionary and did not want to give it back.” I felt a little more confident than before but I was not sure about this.

As was a family tradition, the entire family was involved in putting up and decorating the tree. Father put the tree in a wooden stand, mother put the lights on the tree, the older children put on the ornaments, and younger children had the joy of throwing the ice sickles up and down the tree. After the tree was trimmed and momentarily examined, we went about preparing for midnight mass. We bathed, put on our finest clothes and given instructions regarding our behavior in church. While visions of candy, gifts and fruitcake probably danced in my brothers’ heads, a basket with a baby sister in it repeated itself in mine even during Mass. Tired and exhausted after a long church service, we all returned home to immediately go to bed for good long winter’s nap.

I was awaken by sounds of children tearing paper, giggles and mild agreements. I, on the other hand, experienced stress. Rolling out of bed then slowly making my way to the living room was agonizing this Christmas. Did Jesus and Santa work it out? Or was I going to be punished for my sin? Arriving to the living room my questions were answered. There was no baby basket. Only three wrapped items with my name on them.

“Oh, well,” I thought to myself. “My sin was not forgiven.” What was supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, for me, it was the most miserable. The worst Christmas ever! I felt being I was being punished for a sin I was not all my fault. At that moment, I felt Jesus and Santa were being unfair. But what could I do? Jesus and Santa owned Christmas. They decide who is naughty or nice and I was naughty.

While my brothers were having fun, I decided to confront Jesus and Santa. Without a coat, I sat down on the front steps of the apartment. “Jesus! Santa! What happened? Where’s my baby sister? Did I mess up? I beat up Melvin Bolden because he took my dictionary and wouldn’t give it back when I asked him to. So I don’t think it was all my fault. He started it and I finished it. Is it because I went too far? I’m sorry for giving him a fat lip and kicking him where it hurts. He started it, Lord! So why am I being punished? The day is not over yet and I can wait if you want me to. Okay!”

So I waited the entire day with the hope she would arrive. Day turned to night but still no baby sister. I went to bed that evening disappointed and confused. I thought Jesus and Santa would get me my wish. The only thing, in my 7 year old mind, was my sin was not forgiven because I did not really confess it correctly. Two days after December 25th I decided to visit one of the priests. I nervously approached the rectory door, took a deep breath then rang the doorbell. Within about a minute appeared a black cassocked priest—Father Anthony Vader.

“Yes, may I help you, Stephen?” he said.

“Father, I need to talk to you about a problem I am having.”

“Sure! Come on in, Stephen, let’s talk. Follow me. The office is right over here. Have a seat! What’s on your mind?”

“Father, I sinned really bad.”

“Oh, you wish to confess a sin?”

“Yes, Father,” speaking rapidly. “I think Jesus and Santa Claus are really angry at me for beating up Melvin Bolden. I asked Jesus and talked to Santa Claus and asked for a baby sister for Christmas and I didn’t get one. I think it is because I beat up Melvin Bolden, gave him a fat lip and kicked him hard and never went to confession to confess my sin because I’m not ready for my First Communion yet. Jesus and Santa always hear kids but not this time.”

“Whoah! Slow down! Slow down!” responded Father Vader. Clearing his throat, the priest said: “You have made a good confession. Say three ‘Our Fathers”, three ‘Hail Marys’ and make a good ‘Act of Contrition’. Now, let’s talk about getting a sister for Christmas. Did you discuss this with your parents?”

“No, Father. I just talked it over with Jesus and Santa Claus. I didn’t think I needed to. The Sisters, you and the other priests always told us that God, Jesus answers the prayers of little children. So I thought I would go to Jesus, first. Then I remembered Santa Claus so I went to him, too. So where’s my baby sister?”

Clearing his voice again, Father Vader said, “Sometimes Jesus does not answer us right away. Just keep praying and be faithful to Him. If Jesus thinks it’s okay for you to have a sister, He will let you have one.”

“But, Father, I wanted a baby sister this Christmas.”

Smiling, Father Vader responded, “Well, if you get a baby sister at any time, you may call her your ‘Christmas sister’. The one you asked for for Christmas. Jesus knows what is best for us and when it is the best time to give us the things we desire. Sometimes Jesus may say ‘wait’ or He may say ‘no’ altogether. Just trust in Jesus. He will do the right thing for you. Okay. Now remember, you owe Jesus three ‘Our Fathers’, three ‘Hail Marys’ and a good ‘Act of Contrition’, Stephen.

“Yes, Father,’ I responded in a disappointed tone of voice. ‘You know I’m glad I came over to talk with you about this.”

“So what did you learn?”

“I learned that I need to let Jesus decide. But I’m also wondering why Santa didn’t say anything.”

“Well, that’s because maybe Jesus suggested he not do so. You know they do work together.”

I left the rectory to do my penance but I also asked if I could get a baby sister next Christmas. I did as Father Vader commanded and prayed for a baby sister as well. Just as Father Vader had said Jesus will decide when to say ‘yes’. I did not have to wait another Christmas for a baby sister. Exactly 40 days after my talk and confession, I got the baby sister I had desired. I, therefore, had Christmas in February just before my birthday. Her name Jowanna (pronounced: Joe-wan-a) Agnes Peterson.

The story did not end there. I ended getting 8 more sisters who were just as wonderful as the first! For me, Jesus and Santa are wonderful!

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