The Security Doors Fling Open and We Swoosh Inside.
White glaring lights illuminate the scene of constant movement.
The Pediatric ER. Yes. We are here again.
10:00 PM…22:00 in Hospital Time. A Tuesday.
Perhaps a Stomach Bug. But Perhaps Something More. No Fever. Good. Nausea with Belly Pain. Yes.
Vitals. Monitor Hook Ups. The Sliding Door to the Examining Room Slides Shut. Our Waiting Begins.
From Under the Curtain, Feet Swirl By.
Heavy Black Shoes of Police Officers. Tiny Feet in Slippers. A Mom in Work Heels. Lots of Sneakers.
And Clogs. Doctors and Nurses wear Funky. Fun. Bright Colored. Clogs.
We Watch the Feet Show. And Wait.
And Then I notice the Tiny Christmas Tree. Barely 3-Feet Tall.
It Stands a Bit Lopsided on the Floor Opposite the Nurse’s Station.
No Lights. No Ornaments. No Tinsel. No Candy Canes. No Tree Skirt.
Just a Tiny Tree decorated with Little Red Velvet Bows. One Bow for Each Branch. And a Plastic Star on the Top Branch.
Every Parent and Child Whisked into the ER Passes the Tiny Tree. Parent Eyes Focused on Where They are Directed to Go.
Through Tears and Wringing Hands they All Brush Past the Tree and Barely See It.
Following the Nurse, I Too Caught Sight of the Tree, but Quickly Moved By.
At First Blush, the Tree Looks Silly Plopped on the Floor in this Extremely Busy Walkway.
But From the Examining Room, I Realize What the Tree is Doing. And I Smile.
Eye-Level. Child-Height. Each Child that Passes the Tree Reaches Out and Touches the Branches.
For a Moment the Scariness of This Place Washes Away.
It’s Almost Christmas and Santa and Magic.
And With Christmas and Santa and Magic Comes Hope. And Love.
Thank You Tiny Tree. Thank You for Giving Us Strength and Reminding Us of the Magic of Love.
At Christmas and All the Days of the Year.
Wishing You a Beautiful Holiday filled with Love and Hope and Magic.