I met them at the entrance. Big Jim was at the front. He was enormous—easily 6’5″ and 280 pounds. His Santa beard was real, long and gray and magnificent. He looked more like Santa than any mall Santa I’d ever seen.
“Nurse Patricia?” He shook my hand with surprising gentleness. “Thank you for letting us do this.”
We’d kept it a secret. The children knew Santa was coming—he comes every year, usually a hospital volunteer in a rented costume. But they didn’t know what was actually planned.
Big Jim gathered his men in the lobby. Forty Santas. Some tall, some short. Some with real beards, some with fake ones. All with kind eyes and nervous energy.
“Alright brothers, listen up,” Big Jim said. “These kids are going through the hardest thing they’ll ever face. Some of them won’t make it to next Christmas. Our job tonight is simple. Make them feel loved. Make them feel special. Make them forget they’re sick, even for just a few minutes.”
He paused. His voice got thick.
“Some of these kids don’t have anyone coming to visit them tomorrow. No parents. No family. Tonight, we’re their family. You understand?”
Forty bikers nodded in silence.
“Let’s go bring some Christmas.”
We started on the fourth floor. Oncology. The cancer kids. The ones who break your heart every single day.
Lily was going to spend Christmas alone.
When Big Jim walked through her door, Lily’s eyes went wide as dinner plates.
“SANTA?”
Big Jim laughed—a real, deep, belly laugh. “That’s right, sweetheart. Santa came to see you.”
He sat down on the edge of her bed, and two more Santas filed in behind him, carrying a huge bag of presents.
“Now, a little bird told me that you love horses. Is that true?”
Lily nodded, speechless.
