Claire had been sick for almost three weeks. It started with a cough, then a fever and chills, and a stomach ache that never seemed to go away. Her mom had taken her temperature, and it was high - over one hundred and one degrees! So, on the day they were supposed to get their Christmas tree, she went to bed, and stayed there. "Get some sleep," her mom said, "and you'll be better in time for Christmas. It's still a few weeks away. And while she slept, her folks put up the Christmas tree, and strung the lights on it, and put up the holiday decorations.

Her fever didn't want to go away. She felt awful. Her head hurt. Her throat hurt. And her stomach hurt. Finally, they went to see the doctor. As they rode down the street, she saw the decorations on the neighbor's homes, and she felt even worse. "I'm going to miss Christmas!" she whined. "It's still a couple of weeks away," her mom said. "We'll see if the doctor can't help make you better." They rode by shopping malls, full of cars, where people were buying Christmas presents, while men dressed up as Santa Claus rang bells beside big red pots. "How am I going to tell Santa what I want for Christmas?" she asked. "He won't know what to bring me!" "I'm sure we'll have time to tell him," her mother tried to reassure her. But Claire didn't feel good, and didn't think she would be better any time soon. In the doctor's office, she listened to Christmas Carols, played through the speakers in the waiting room. The doctor listened to her chest, and took her pulse, and made her say, "Aaaaah!" while he stuck a flat piece of wood in the back of her mouth. It made her gag and cough. Then he gave her mother a prescription for some medicine, and told her she would probably be sick for a little while, that she should drink lots of fluids, and that she should probably have her assignments from school brought home, so she wouldn't get too far behind.

That week, her mother baked cookies for the cookie exchange at church. The whole week, the air in the house smelled like gingerbread, and chocolate, and orange, and spices. They were wonderful smells, but with her upset stomach, it made her feel even sicker. Her mother gave her some ginger ale, and she piled up on the couch. She thought maybe there would be a Christmas special on the television, but during the day the shows mostly weren't about Christmas, even though there were lots of Christmas commercials. Soon, she would fall asleep, and wake up later in her own bed.

The school play was next Monday - and she was still sick. She had rehearsed her lines, just in case she got well in time. Her part was an elf, and she was to come out at the very end and say, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" But every time she tried to say her lines, her throat hurt, and she sounded more like a frog croaking. She missed the play. And she missed caroling with the Sunday School. And she missed the Sunday School pageant on the Sunday before Christmas. But she was finally starting to feel better, and that was good. Maybe she could still make the class Christmas Party.

But then her nose began to run, and she started sneezing, and her flu turned into a cold! Three days before Christmas! It was going to be the worst Christmas ever! The day of her class party, she watched out of her bedroom window as children from the neighborhood excitedly got on the bus, ready for what they knew would be a fun day at school. No assignments - just singing Christmas carols, and exchanging Christmas cards, and eating fresh Christmas cookies baked that morning in the cafeteria. And then they would be home again, and could play outside, and talk about what they were getting from Santa.

SANTA! Oh, no! She had forgotten all about Santa! She had wanted to write him a note, to let him know that she was sick, and wouldn't be able to come see him at the mall; but now it was too late! She was sick, and Santa wouldn't bring her any presents, and she had missed Christmas entirely! She started to cry - and she cried and cried and cried - so that, when mom came home, she said, "My goodness, Claire - what happened to you? You look AWFUL!" Well, she felt awful, too, and she didn't even want to talk about it. She just marched back up to her bedroom, and slammed her door shut, and buried her head in her pillow.

The next day was Christmas Eve. All day, she sat and watched Christmas Specials on television; and when she got tired of that, she sat by the window and watched her friends play outside. And when she got tired of that, she sang some Christmas carols to her cat, Fred. Her throat was feeling better, but she still had the sniffles.

"Do you think Claire can go to church tonight?" Her dad asked her mom, when he came home from work. "She seems to be better, and I'd hate to have her miss Christmas altogether." That's how it felt to her, too- like she had missed Christmas altogether. Everything. Getting the tree and putting it up. Helping with the decorations. Shopping for presents. The caroling and parties. Even Santa Claus. "No," mom said. "I'd hate to expose her to other people and have her get sick again. I think she'd better stay home tonight." "Nooooo!" Claire whined. "I'm going to miss Christmas altogether!" "There's next year," her mother replied, trying to comfort her. But she didn't feel comforted, and next year was a long, long way away.

She suddenly felt worse than ever. But it wasn't because of a fever. And it wasn't her throat. And it wasn't her stomach. And it wasn't her nose. It was her heart. Her heart felt very, very heavy. Heavy and sad. She went into the living room, and sat down by the Christmas tree, and switched on the lights. Fred must have been in earlier, because a couple of the ornaments were on the floor. She picked one up and put it on the tree. Then she noticed that something was missing - the nativity set was still in its box, sitting on the floor next to the tree. "Mom, you forgot to put up the nativity!" she called out to the kitchen, where mom was making a big pot of soup. "Oh, honey - we thought that maybe you would like to put it up," she said.

Claire carefully unpacked the box, and set the figures before her. She got out the stable, and put it beneath the tree. Then she had a thought, and went into her room and got her Bible, and searched through it until she found the Christmas story in "The Gospel According to Luke." She read from the very beginning, about Mary getting pregnant by the Holy Spirit, and her visit to Elizabeth. "Hmmm," she said to herself, studying the figures, "I don't have an Elizabeth." So she went up and got her Barbie doll, to play the part of Elizabeth. Then she read on, about Zechariah, and John the Baptist, and she went back to her room to get dolls to play their parts as well. Ken was Zechariah, and Sponge Bob was John, since they both liked water. Then she thought that, maybe her other dolls might like to watch, like the people in her church, when the Sunday School put on their Christmas play. So she went to her room, and brought down all of her dolls, and her stuffed animals, and sat them around so that they could watch, too. She rode Mary to the stable on the donkey, although Mary had to kind of kneel on him, since her legs didn't move. And then there were the angels and shepherds coming to see him, and she even added a few lines for the animals to say. The cow said, "I'll give Jesus some of my milk." The sheep said, "My wool will keep you nice and warm," and she put him right next to the manger. She thought a little bit about the donkey, and then said, "I will take you far away from King Herod, so he can't hurt you." Then they all sang "Away in a Manger."

Suddenly she felt her mother's arms around her, as she sat down on the floor beside Claire. "I think this is how it was," Claire said. He didn't have Santa Claus, or a Christmas tree, or lights or cookies. Just his mom and dad, and some shepherds and angels. "I think that's how it's supposed to be," her mom said. And she gave Claire a big hug. "I'm sorry about your being sick for Christmas." "It's o.k.," Claire said. "I think I like it this way." And they called dad in, and they all sat on the floor, and sang "Silent Night."

Claire felt different. All of the animals were now in the stable, with Mary and Joseph, and baby Jesus. And the angels and shepherds, and Barbie and Ken and Sponge Bob had all come to see Jesus too, along with all of her other dolls and stuffed animals. She looked at the baby Jesus, lying in his bed of hay, and thought about the little baby, born so long ago, in a stable, with just animals around him. He had no Santa Claus to bring him toys, and no malls to shop in, no Christmas carols or Christmas tree or Christmas cookies. And suddenly those things didn't seem very important to her, either.

Claire looked up at the lights of the Christmas tree, shining like stars over the place where Jesus lay in his little bed, and she felt good, and very peaceful inside. For a moment, she almost thought she could even hear the angels sing, at least in her heart. And she knew it would be a good Christmas after all.