A long storoem (story-poem) about a ten-year-old girl's Christmas gift.

Hannah was a sweet-natured, ten-year-old
girl, who had been born with a deformed foot.
She walked with constant pain. The doctor told
her parents he couldn’t help her. They must put

Hannah on a train to the leading school
of medicine in Boston for surgery
to correct her foot, for it would be cruel
if she stayed crippled, subject to mockery.

It was 1933. Times were tough.
Hannah’s family had little money,
none to spare for surgery, just enough
to feed, clothe the family. They sold honey

and produce from their farm for their living.
Sending Hannah to Boston as desired
just wasn’t possible. She had no misgiving
about her future; she did what was required.

Hannah did the best she could to fit in
with the other children. However, they laughed
at her if she walked fast and fell. She’d grin
as they made fun, but inside she felt a cold draft.

Hannah turned more to the company of adults.
She was active at church, always helping out
wherever there was need. She had good results
tending the sick. Folks said she’s blessed, no doubt.

The spring of Hannah’s tenth year a young, new
preacher came to town. He was struck with the
plight suffered by Hannah, and he sure knew
what was called for – a fund-raising, praise be!

He preached; he cajoled; he pressured the few
wealthy men in town. The church had bake sales
and raffles…until the fund finally grew
large enough to pay the cost of all details.

The necessary arrangements were made.
The money was given to Hannah’s dad.
They were to leave Christmas Day. Her decade
of suffering would soon end; she was so glad.

That night the preacher stopped by. Hannah was
in bed but too excited to sleep. She overheard,
“Jackson’s new baby…bad heart…unless he does
get operation…will die…too expensive…absurd.”

When her folks went to bed, Hannah heard her
mother pray for the Jackson’s baby son to live.
Hannah lay still, waiting ‘til her parents were
asleep. Then she knew she had something to give.

She took the money from her dad’s bedside table.
She set off through the newly fallen snow,
walking through the woods. Finally, she was able
to see a light in the window ahead, all aglow.

She knocked on the door, and when Mrs. Jackson
opened the same, Hannah simply said, “Your son
needs this more than me.” She handed Mrs. Jackson
the money and hurried off, sure of what she’d done.

As she hurried away, her feet tangled and she fell
face down in the snow. It felt so strange when she tried
to stand; when she walked, she could definitely tell
the change. As she ran on perfect feet, with joy she cried.