A Treasury of Christmas Miracles (6 page)

She struggled with her weight and often sat alone at family get-togethers, feeling too self-conscious to participate. And
so her peers and even her immediate family often forgot about her, finding it easier to involve themselves in their own lives
than to take time to figure out why Barbara was so quiet.

During those crucial formative years, Barbara appeared to have few opinions and even fewer social graces, but inside her lived
a young woman nearly bursting with the desire to be loved and cared for. For that reason, from the time she was old enough
to walk, she idolized the two men in her life: her brother, Lou, and her father, Hank.

Hank Oliver was a small-town doctor during the years when his family was growing up in Glenview, Illinois. He was the type
of practitioner who still made house calls and who allowed his patients to pay him by whatever means they could—even if that
meant trading a handpicked bag of produce for one of his visits. He had the lowest charges in town, and while most doctors
would only prescribe medications, he was willing to teach people nutrition and preventative measures for improving their health.

Everyone in town loved Doctor Hank, as they called him. The feeling was mutual, and he often spent seven days a week engulfed
in his practice. Just a handful of people in Glenview ever wondered if Doctor Hank loved them in return and they lived under
his roof.

“Don’t you ever wonder, Lou?” Barbara asked her brother one day when they were in their early teens. “He’s gone so much of
the time that I’m not sure whether he really loves us or not.”

Lou’s eyes fell, and he stared at the baseball and glove in his hands. His father had promised to play ball with him that
day, but once again he’d been called away for a medical emergency.

“Yeah,” he said after a while. “I know what you mean. If he loves us, then why can’t he spend more time with us? It seems
like he should want to be with us more than with his patients.”

Hank was such a happy, good-natured man that the children felt foolish voicing any complaints at all except to each other.
But still they missed their father and once in a while continued to wonder about how much he loved them.

Time passed, and Hank’s health declined rapidly. He had been diagnosed years before with a disease that made him prone to
seizures. But it wasn’t until ten years later that he began degenerating and finally had to give up his practice.

He finally succumbed to his illness after making peace with each of his children. Throughout the final days of his life it
was often Barbara and Lou who took turns waiting on him and comforting him.

“What are we going to do without him?” Barbara asked her brother not long after the funeral. “I can’t imagine living in a
world where he’s not around.”

Lou nodded. Their family had been raised to love God and obey the Bible. He knew that his father was in heaven. But still,
the pain of losing him was almost too much to bear. Especially after coming to understand in his father’s final years just
how much the man loved him.

“I don’t know, Barbara,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “But I know that what Dad taught us is true. He’s in
heaven and one day we’ll go to live with him there and we’ll all be together again. What a homecoming that’ll be, huh?”

Barbara smiled through her tears. “Yeah, and in heaven he won’t have to make house calls.”

In the decade that followed, although the rest of Barbara’s siblings all went their own ways, Barbara became very attached
to her brother Lou. Shortly after Lou joined the Navy, she, too, joined. When Lou finished serving his time, he married, taught
college, and eight years later moved to San Diego, where he began working on his second master’s degree at the University
of San Diego.

After serving a double hitch in the Navy, Barbara also moved to San Diego and found a house just a few miles from Lou’s. She,
too, began attending the university.

Lou worried about his sister’s lack of independence. “I know she wants to get married and have a family of her own,” he confided
to his wife, Anna, one day. “But all she does is go to school, work, and sit home, in front of the television set. She can’t
expect to meet someone living like that.”

Anna angled her head thoughtfully. “I think it’s just going to take more time with Barbara. She’s starting to come out of
her shell some, and once she has her degree she’ll feel a lot better about things. Don’t worry about her.”

Besides, it wasn’t as if Barbara didn’t have a family. She did. Over the next fifteen years Lou and Anna raised four children,
and Barbara was always at the center of their family outings.

Over time, Barbara earned a bachelor’s degree in rehabilitation and began working in an alcohol-recovery center. Her patients
ranged from hopeless adults to troubled teens, and Barbara worked tirelessly with them.

As Barbara became more involved with her patients, Lou and Anna began to notice a change in her.

“You know,” Lou said one night as he and his wife washed dinner dishes together at the kitchen sink, “all of us kids growing
up used to think there was something wrong with Barbara. We thought she’d never amount to much, I guess because she was so
alone and never did the things the rest of us did.”

He paused a moment before continuing. “But that isn’t true at all. She’s got her education and a wonderful job. She gives
hope to people who have none, and for dozens of her patients she’s the greatest gift God has ever given them.”

“I told you, Lou,” Anna said warmly. “You used to worry so much about Barbara.”

“I still worry about her because she has no family of her own. All she’s ever really wanted is a family.”

“She’s growing at her own pace.” Anna smiled, drying her hands on a nearby towel and setting it back on the countertop. “For
now, though, it’s not like she has no one. We’re her family. But one of these days, when she’s ready, she will meet the right
person and then she’ll have her family. She has plenty of time yet. Watch and see.”

But a few years later, Barbara was diagnosed with breast cancer. At forty-three, she was younger than most breast cancer patients,
so doctors were at first hopeful she might survive. They removed a cancerous section of her breast, and when the cancer continued
to spread they performed a mastectomy. The surgery was followed up by chemotherapy and radiation treatments, which caused
Barbara’s hair to fall out and often left her violently ill.

Still, she continued to work, staying home only on the days when she felt sickest. When she was at work, she put her personal
troubles behind her and concentrated only on helping her patients.

“That woman is amazing,” Anna said one day as she watched Barbara making dinner for her family in the kitchen.

Lou stared thoughtfully at his sister. “She’s a fighter, all right. But I’m so worried about her.”

“The cancer?”

Lou nodded. “She talked to the doctor yesterday. It’s spread into her lymph system.”

Anna hung her head and sighed, and for a long time neither of them said anything. There was no need. They both knew what the
news meant. When cancer spreads through the lymph system, as it had in Barbara’s body, the outcome was too often certain.

That had been in the spring, but Barbara continued to work through the first part of November before succumbing to her illness
and taking a leave of absence. The cancer had continued to spread, this time beyond her lymph system into her entire body,
and doctors did not expect her to live more than six months.

Now, when Lou left Barbara at her apartment, their time together was painful for both of them.

“You’ve got to hang in here and pull through this,” Lou would tell her as he sat at the edge of her bed and helped her take
sips of ice water. She had lost a lot of weight and her skin looked gray and lifeless.

“I’m trying, Lou, really I am,” she would say, never complaining about the effort it took to muster her strength.

When Lou would leave Barbara’s apartment, he would often bow his head and pray before driving home.

“Lord, please help me see Barbara through this terrible disease. I pray that she lives. But if her time has come to go home
to you, I pray you make the transition easy. Please don’t let her suffer, Lord.”

Throughout November and much of December Lou got off work early and stopped to visit Barbara. Although her body was obviously
deteriorating, she was not bedridden, and Lou was thankful for that. After their visits he would normally return home for
dinner and then go back to see Barbara later in the evening, sometimes bringing her a plate of whatever they’d eaten that
night.

“It’s getting to me, Anna,” he confided to his wife one morning. “I hate to see her falling apart. One of these days she’s
going to be too weak to get off the couch, and then what are we going to do?”

Anna thought a moment. “Well, we could have her come live with us.”

Lou had thought of the possibility, but knew it would be difficult to make it work. Each of their three bedrooms was being
used, and there wouldn’t be anyone home during the day to take care of Barbara. Still, he wanted her to feel welcome. If there
was any way they could figure out the logistics, having Barbara come live with them was really the only option Lou could imagine.

That week—two weeks before Christmas—he told Barbara about the idea.

“No way, Lou. Not on your life,” she said, trying to sound firm. “You and Anna and the kids have been my family for such a
long time; you’ve done so much for me.” She continued, struggling with each word because of her 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 as Dr. Sanchez located Barbara’s file.

“Okay, here it is. Let me see. Yes, it’s right here. On October fifteenth I received a call on my cell phone from a Dr. Hank
Oliver. The man said he was Barbara’s father and that when she got toward the end of her illness she’d be going home to live
with him.”

Lou shook his head, trying to make sense of the situation. “That’s fine, Dr. Sanchez, but my father’s been dead for almost
thirty years. Obviously he couldn’t make a phone call.”

“Is it possible it was an uncle or some other relative or friend?” she asked. “As I said, the man was very knowledgeable about
Barbara and her condition. Is there another doctor in your family? I never mentioned the call to Barbara because I assumed
your father had discussed it with her before calling me.”