A Treasury of Christmas Miracles by Karen Kingsbury Page A

weakened condition. “I’m not
     going to impose on you now and make you change your whole house around just so I can come there to die.”
    “Barbara, don’t talk like that,” Lou chided her gently. “You’re going to pull through this. You’ve had hard times before,
     but you’ve always fought it. I want you home for Christmas so you can turn the corner on this thing and get better.”
    But both brother and sister knew there was no truth in his words. That much was clear as Christmas drew nearer and Barbara
     finally became unable to leave her bed except for a brief period once or twice each day.
    “Listen, Barbara, if you won’t come live with me and Anna, then you need to move to the Veterans’ Hospice or someplace where
     you can have help around the clock,” Lou said. “It’s eating me up knowing you’re here alone and going through so much pain
     by yourself. Especially at Christmastime.”
    “I’m fine,” Barbara insisted. “I can reach my medication and I have water by me all the time. I get meals delivered to me
     and whatever you bring me. That’s plenty of food. I don’t need any help.”
    Lou disagreed, and his sister’s situation weighed heavily on him. He prayed that afternoon about a solution for Barbara’s
     living arrangements, asking God to show him what to do for her.
    “God, you know her heart, and I pray you convince her to give up her independence. She needs help, Lord, and I can’t provide
     it all. I don’t want her living alone, so please help us to work things out. Help her to be willing to move if that’s what
     is necessary. Amen.”
    Finally, one afternoon later that week, Lou left a message for Barbara’s doctor, Dr. Sylvia Sanchez, to call him. He planned
     to ask the doctor to have a talk with Barbara. Maybe she could convince Barbara that she needed to leave her apartment and
     get help.
    The next morning, December 22, Dr. Sanchez returned Lou’s call.
    “Yes, this is Barbara’s brother, Lou,” he said.
    “Hello, Lou. We’re all very fond of Barbara,” she said politely. “How can I help you?”
    “First of all, I think she’s getting worse very quickly and I’m concerned about her,” he said.
    “She’s lost some mobility,” Dr. Sanchez explained. “But I still think she’s got another three months or more.”
    “That’s why I’m calling. See, I’ve asked her to come live with me and my family, but she won’t do it. She thinks she’ll be
     in the way, and I haven’t been able to change her mind.” Lou drew in a deep breath. “I called because I was hoping you might
     be able to talk some sense into her. If she won’t come live with me, she needs to be at a hospice or a group home, someplace
     where she can have help around the clock.”
    Dr. Sanchez thought for a moment before responding. “Have you considered helping her move in with your father?” she asked.
    Lou’s face twisted in confusion; he was not sure he had heard the doctor correctly. “What?”
    “Maybe it’s time she go and live with your father,” the doctor repeated. “Sometime around October, I got a call from your
     father. He wanted to know how she was doing, and he seemed very knowledgeable about her particular case. I was surprised and
     asked him if he was a doctor, which he said he was. Seemed odd to me that Barbara had never mentioned it before. Anyway, we
     chatted for a few minutes. Before we finished talking, he told me he’d never gotten to spend enough time with Barbara when
     she was a little girl.” The doctor hesitated. “He told me that when things got really bad people shouldn’t worry about Barbara
     because she would be going home to live with him at Christmas.”
    Lou had no idea what to say.
    “Mr. Oliver? Are you there?”
    Lou cleared his throat. “Dr. Sanchez, my father died many years ago. There’s no way he could have made that phone call.”
    “How strange,” she said. “Wait. Just a minute.” There was a rustling sound of paper