In 1909, my maternal grandmother, Inger Pauline (Braaten) Hovick (1884–1975), won first prize in a Christmas story-writing contest, held by what I believe was called Young Ben magazine (research has not revealed any such magazine). The story is likely an idealized, fictional account inspired by her years working as a Lutheran Deaconess Sister and nurse at the Deaconess Hospital in Chicago from 1900–1903.
A Christmas at a Hospital
By Pauline Hovick
In a quiet but happy hospital, quiet because so many sick lay within its walls who needed rest; and happy, because love seemed to reign supreme within that sisterhood who so lovingly and patiently administered to the needs of the suffering ones. Preparations were being made for the arrival of the seventh Christmas Eve in the history of this hospital. Three sisters were in the diet-kitchen on second floor, busily preparing decorations for the coming event, when suddenly, the tap of a bell was heard summoning Sister Dora to the bedside of a little boy in ward number two.
Before Sister could ask what was wanted, the boy exclaimed, “Oh, Sister! Dr. Scott was just here and told me I may go home for Christmas!” “Did he,” exclaimed Sister? “We’re so sorry to see you leave us. We have become so accustomed to the smiling face in bed number twelve, that the absence of it will make us feel so lonely. You know, Joseph dear, you’re called the ‘Sunshine’ of the hospital, and when the sun ceases to shine, everything becomes so dreary. But then our loss will be your gain. Anything to make you happy.”
No wonder our Sister expressed herself thus, for this little patient of twelve had endeared himself to the hearts of all who came in contact with him. Here he had lain for three long months, patiently bearing all the pains caused by that dreaded disease, tuberculosis of the hip, obedient to all rules and appreciative of any little kindness shown him. Sister then turned his pillow and reached for his glass of water to give him a drink. But the touch of the glass told her the water was not fresh. So, stepping lightly into the hall, she soon returned with a pitcher of fresh water, emptied every glass, and refilled them with sparkling cold drink, speaking a cheerful word to each patient as she moved along.
Coming again to the boy’s bed, her experienced eye soon detected something was wrong. There was a flush upon the otherwise so-pale cheeks, and his eyes had become dull. Giving him a smile just to hide her own anxiety, she left him. But in a moment she was back again, the thermometer in one hand and her watch in the other. Joseph’s condition was soon clear to her: a rapid pulse and a high temperature caused by overjoy. The thought of coming home for Christmas had so excited the little nerves, as to bring on this sudden change. Sister, again hiding all her emotions beneath a smile, stroked his forehead and again disappeared, this time, returning to the two Sisters. She exclaimed in a low voice as she entered, “Sisters. Sisters. Joseph is worse!” “Our Sunshine worse and just before Christmas,” cried the others. “What’s the cause of his relapse? Let’s call doctor quickly.” Sister Dora told them how intensely happy their patient had become over the thought of coming back to Papa and Mama for Christmas eve. “Now Sister,” she said, “you know how painful it will be to see him, our dear patient, so sorely disappointed. He has always been so good. Oh, that all were like him, what agonies of heart we’d be spared! Let us pray.”
There. in their private kitchen, three Sisters knelt in earnest prayer, beseeching the Almighty Father to restore sick little Joseph. The prayers ended, Sister Dora, our Sister on duty commanded, “Come, Sisters. Leave your work and come with me. We must do something to give him entire rest. Private room number seven is vacant; let us carefully move him in there. But remember, not one of us must intimate to him that we believe he is worse. Sister Alice, go prepare his bed, and you,” turning to Sister Melba, “come with me.”
Reaching little Joseph’s bed, Sister Dora bent over him, her eyes beaming with love, saying, “Now, Joseph, we want to honor you today by moving you into one of our nicest rooms. We’ll carry you on our arms, just like Jesus did with the little lamb, you remember.” Little Joseph just smiled a faint smile as he laid his head on the pillow in this most beautifully furnished room. “You are always so good to me,” he whispered. “I…” Here Sister interrupted him by saying, “There, there, never mind throwing bouquets at us now. What I want you to do is to lay down and sleep. You are tired, dear boy, and a nap will do you good.” “I’ll try, if you will hold my hand, Sister, as you used to when I was so awfully sick, you know,” said Joseph. “Yes, indeed,” answered Sister! And let me bathe your forehead just like this, and you’ll see how sweetly you’ll sleep. “At least I hope so,” she thought to herself. Thus, fulfilling his wishes in her quiet, reserved way, he was, after short while, asleep. But care must now be taken not to disturb the slumbering one. How anxiously she watched him as he lay there, at first restless but becoming more and more quiet. Sister Dora’s main thought was, “Oh, that our darling boy, after a perfect rest, might be strong enough to go home. He must not be disappointed.” Her hands folded and she prayed, but always adding at the close of each prayer, “Thy will, oh Lord, be done.”
She had now kept constant watch over him for three successive hours, but the time had not seemed long to her. Love lightens all labor! She heard the other patients were given their evening meal and knew that the Sisters would soon assemble in their dining-room for theirs. But our faithful Dora did not even think of leaving the room. She has given strict orders that under no circumstances must the door to this room be opened, for fear of disturbing Joseph, if he should fall asleep. “I do hope he will sleep till morning,” thought Sister! “I am hungry, I must confess, but that matters not. My only wish is to see Joseph well, even better than he was this morning.”
At midnight he awakened. At the sight of Sister Dora keeping watch over him, he was at first a little surprised. But Sister, in her tactful way, said, “I was afraid you’d be lonesome in here alone the first night, that’s all. Here’s a drink of water. You’ll try and sleep some more, won’t you dear?” “But l haven’t said my prayers tonight, Sister. May l say them first,” asked Joseph? Whereupon he folded the once so cubby hands but now so poor and thin, and prayed, “Now l lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep…” Here he ended, his eyes had closed and he was again asleep. “Lord, thou art good,” thought Sister. “Thou givest the weary rest.” The hours wore on, the hands on her watch told her it was five o’clock. A few minutes later, her patient awoke, a rested boy he was, but a weak one. His face and hands were bathed, his whole body made comfortable and a nourishing food given.
As soon as the doctor arrived in the morning. Sister Dora called him aside and told him about Joseph and the precaution she had taken.
Patting her on the shoulder, Dr. Scott, in his fatherly way said, “Sister, you’re worth your weight in gold.” “Oh no,” replied Sister. “But you know our motto is: ‘Count that day lost whose low descending sun views from thy hands no worthy action done.’” “Very beautiful,” said the doctor. “Hereafter that’s to be my motto, too. Now, come, let’s go to number seven.”
“Good morning, merry sunshine,” was the doctor’s greeting to Joseph. “You deserve a room like this for your smiles alone. How are you, my little man?” “I am all right, doctor, but I feel so weak. I’m afraid you won’t let me go home today, now.” Doctor thought for a moment and replied, “I cannot keep the promise I gave you yesterday. You’re too weak to travel all the way home. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I’ll send for your Papa and Mama, and they’ll come and spend Christmas with you. Now, you just imagine,” continued doctor, “that you’re a big man, and your father and mother come to your home for Christmas; won’t that be fun?” “All right,” answered Joseph, but a tear trickled down his cheek, as he thought to himself, “No Christmas tree, no presents: what a funny Christmas ‘twill be!”
We will just leave Joseph here awhile, for it’s Christmas eve tonight, and all preparations must be made till five o’clock; no work done after that hour, except to make everybody as happy as they can be at a hospital.
Almost every bed is occupied, and that means many hearts to be made happy. At half past five, supper is served. Every tray contains some goodies and seems to say, “Nothing too good for you tonight!” After each one had been given ample time to enjoy their meal, all trays were removed, and, to the surprise of all, the lights went out.
All was quiet, save in the adjoining room. After being thus in darkness for a few moments, the voice of a Sister was heard saying, “Now we want everyone to close their eyes for just five minutes.” Everyone obeyed, for they felt sure something good was in store for them. “Wonder what they’re doin’,” said an old man? “In a minute you’ll know,” answered a voice in the darkness.
“Glory to God in the highest!” At the singing of these words, every eye opened. But what was it, were they in heaven and was it angels singing? No, but there before them stood a most beautiful Christmas tree illuminated with about a hundred lights, and a band of white-robed Sisters holding each other’s hands, walking around the tree, singing, “Glory to God, the new-born King.”
When the song was ended, they went from bed to bed, and each patient, not one forgotten, received a token of their love. Then nuts and fruit were served, and each one allowed to enjoy themselves to their hearts’ content. “Who’d ever think we’d have a Christmas like this,” said one? “Well,” said another, “they call me Grandpa, but I feel like a little boy tonight. This is my happiest Christmas.” “Mine too,” echoed from all the beds. “I am so glad I couldn’t go home today,” said our little Joseph. “I believe Jesus is here tonight. Mama and papa say so, too.” “So you’re not disappointed then, our dear Sunshine,” asked the Sisters? “Now, if you say ‘no,’ we too will be perfectly happy tonight.” “No, I should say I am not, for I have tonight learned that your motto must be: ‘All for others.’” “And all for Christ,” added his father.
Christmas morning, a lady patient in ward number one woke up, saying, “I hear angels, they’re coming nearer. Oh, what sweet music!” And so every ear was awakened to the singing of “All hail the new-born King!” It wasn’t angels this time either. It was but the self-same Sisters of the previous evening. But they were not visible till the song was ended. Then they again went from bed to bed taking each patient by their hand and wishing them, “A very happy Christmas.” “How can we but be happy,” answered many of the patients?
At ten o’clock, a middle-aged man, garbed as a minister of the Gospel, came forth and read the glad tidings. “There is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.”
“Mama,” said Joseph, “I wish I could be here every Christmas.”
Hovick Lohman History 