Doctor prescribes Christmas miracle

In 1955 when I was nine years old, Mom and Dad decided to emigrate to Canada.

The trip took about two weeks — travelling by train, boat, and train again. I learned my first words of English on the ship: “more ice cream.” On the train from Montreal to Edmonton, a man gave me three dollars. Mom and Dad borrowed this small sum many times before I was able to claim it.

We moved into a two-room apartment; it was an old house that had been divided into small apartments. There was a fridge in the hallway and we could claim one shelf. Mom worked as a dishwasher in a bakery/deli for $25 a week. Dad got a job in forestry for a while and then he became very ill. The doctor ordered him to quit working. We were subsisting on Mom’s small income. The doctor never presented a bill and he gave dad free medicine until Dad was able to work again.

Our first Christmas was coming and my parents told me I would only get one small present. As an only child, in Finland, Santa would come and I would receive a dozen gifts, but here we were struggling to make ends meet.

We went out that Christmas Eve to some friends’ and I envied their Christmas tree and the myriad of gifts underneath. We had no tree and I only had the promise of a small present.

When we got back to our apartment, imagine our surprise when we saw there were a dozen wrapped gifts waiting for me at our door! It was surely a Christmas miracle.

It was a while before we learned that it was the doctor who had brought the presents. A few were toys his children had outgrown but they had been lovingly refurbished. When I think back I cannot believe a busy doctor would take the time to fix toys so an immigrant girl could have a wonderful first Canadian Christmas.

I don’t know if I ever learned the doctor’s name but every Christmas I still think of him and silently thank this kind man. Kathy Holler, Edmonton