The secret santa: A sweet Christmas story

Nicola awoke bright and early on Christmas morn. Outside, a pale sun fought with a wintry sky and won. Light and warmth flooded her room and her heart as she ran to the window to gaze at the school courtyard below. She fully expected to see little children playing. But the courtyard was bare and the corridors, empty. Then Nicola remembered. Most of the girls had gone home for Christmas. Only she and a few others remained. And of course, the nuns who ran the boarding school and looked after the girls with the greatest love and kindness.

Nicola was a happy child with a warm, impish smile. When she smiled at you, your heart melted. You just couldn’t refuse her. The nuns said Nicola was ‘a clever girl’. They also said she was very ‘loving’. For sure, love resided in Nicola: it had taken up residence, on the day she was born. And as she grew older, her love grew stronger. She had learnt, through pain that ‘love has nothing to do with pardon or forgiveness, that it only loves, and loves – and loves.’ Nicola knew she was deeply loved.‘Someone in the great somewhere heard her every word’. The thought gave her joy and renewed courage and discipline: she spent hour upon hour pouring over her lessons. She played a few wind and string instruments. She sketched, she painted, and her artist’s hands crafted the most exquisite toys. Nicola gave back to the world all that she had received. And then some more…

When she tired of her efforts, Nicola would gaze through the window and into the garden of the cottage next door. How she loved that garden! It had coconut palms, green grass and neat flower beds. In the evening, children played till dusk fell. Then she heard their mother calling them home and the garden fell silent. How Nicola wished she could be a part of them!

The night before Christmas she lay in bed, thinking about the next day. What gift could she give the sweet nuns who had looked after her? What gift could she give baby Jesus who had been born in a manger with oxen and sheep, and hay for a pillow? Perhaps, she could sing or play a few chords on her beloved instruments? Would Santa Claus remember her? She was his namesake, after all. She had always tried to be 'jolly' like him, but sometimes a wistfulness clung to her, and her smile would disappear for a while. Why must one suffer, she wondered. Is suffering a part of the human condition? Baby Jesus also suffered as he grew up. He faced rejection, humiliation and betrayal. His Mother too must have suffered untold anguish as she ‘beheld her tender child being scorned, derided, and defiled’.

The sound of a gong jolted her back to the present. She dressed in her best clothes and went down to the school chapel. Hearing Christmas mass with the nuns was a sublime experience. She felt swathed in music divine as the nuns sang with a simple, touching fervor. Sentences, verses and choruses rang through the silence as they told yet again of the story of Christmas…. “Those who have walked in darkness have seen a great light...and they laid him in a manger and wrapped him in swaddling clothes...Gloria in Excelsis Deo!” they sang. And the chapel bells rang, proclaiming the birth of the Child Divine.

The hymn that pleased Nicola the most was the one sung at the offertory part of the mass.“No gold have we to give him,” chanted a sister.“No spices rare and sweet”, sung another.“No incense from a foreign land to offer at His feet”, intoned a third. Then a pause. Perhaps, the congregation pondered what gift to give the Infant King. Then came the answer in a soft chorus:“And yet on Christmas morning, one gift we all can bring. A loving heart is best of all to give our Infant King.” Nicola felt her eyes water.

In the evening, the nuns sprang a surprise. “We are going visiting,” they announced, “and you, dear Nicola, are coming with us.” Nicola felt excited and happy. “I made some presents, sister. May I bring them along?” “Yes, dear child,” said the nun, as she watched Nicola disappear down the corridor. Moments later, she was back again, arms laden with brightly-coloured packages. “We are visiting the family, next door,” said Sister, and Nicola’s face lit up.

The house was as beautiful as she had imagined it. There was a crib with baby Jesus peacefully asleep amidst lots of hay, while Joseph and Mary looked on. There were cattle and sheep. Nicola looked at the scene absorbing every detail. And then slowly, she un-wrapped her gift for baby Jesus and laid it at his feet. It was a beautiful painting of the Nativity scene, almost identical to the real manger before which she stood. Her loving hand must have spent hours drawing and painting this scene, thought the children’s mother as she bent down to hug the wistful Nicola, who had got gifts for the family. Soft toys and cuddly bears for the children and a knitted shawl for the mother.“It will keep you from the cold,” was all Nicola said.

She also gifted a song book with few of her own compositions to Sr Cecilia, who had taught her to “sing in her heart to the Lord”, just as the patron saint of musicians had once done. Sr Cecilia beamed. And the children hugged Nicola, and led her to the Christmas tree, where they assured her, a present lay waiting for her. Santa hadn’t forgotten his namesake. She opened her present and fell silent. It was a beautiful mandolin! Tears stung her eyes as she let her fingers linger on the strings and the grained wood. Then she lay it on her lap and turned her gaze towards Sr Cecilia, who nodded ever so gently.

As the night descended and the stars journeyed silently across the sky, Nicola played on her mandolin. The chords came to her easily. She was playing for “someone, somewhere, who heard every note, and who knew her every possibility and limitation as a composer knows his instrument.” Thrilled and awed at the wondrous sight of a child so gifted by the great composer, the little group softly sang along as Nicola heralded the birth of the Child Divine:

“He is born the Child Divine, flute and oboe, loudly play,

He is born the Child Divine, sing ye all, He is born today.”