40 bikers showed up at children’s hospital on Christmas and the kids couldn’t stop crying. I’m a pediatric nurse at St. Mary’s Children’s Hospital and I’ve worked every Christmas for the past twelve years. I thought I’d seen everything. I was wrong.
It started with a phone call three weeks before Christmas. A man with a gruff voice asked to speak to someone in the pediatric ward.
“Ma’am, my name is Big Jim. I’m the president of the Iron Hearts Motorcycle Club. We’d like to do something for the kids at your hospital on Christmas Eve. Would that be possible?”
I get calls like this sometimes. People want to donate toys or drop off gift cards. It’s nice but usually doesn’t amount to much.
“What did you have in mind, sir?”
“Well ma’am, we’ve got about forty guys who want to come visit the kids. Bring presents. Spend some time with them. A lot of these kids probably won’t have family visiting. We want to make sure they’re not alone.”
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