It was three days before Christmas. Crabgirl was 3-1/2, Dolphin was almost 2. They had spent the day playing with their cousins. As I was tucking Crabgirl into bed that night, she said "Mama, I know what I want for Christmas. I want a doll house."

There was no doll house hidden in the closet. There was no money in the bank, no paycheck due before Christmas, and no credit card. Not wanting Crabgirl to be disappointed, I told her that Santa wouldn't know that was what she wanted since she hadn't told him. And with the innocent sincerity that only a child has, she answered "But he's watching me!"

I brooded all night long, knowing that Crabgirl's cousin was getting a dollhouse for Christmas. With her cousin's dollhouse right there before her, there was no hope that Crabgirl would forget her wish. Would she remember this all her life: the Christmas she didn't get what she wanted, but her cousin did? Her faith in Santa was so complete. Would this disappointment affect her ability to trust, her optimism, her faith?

The next day I left Crabgirl and Dolphin with my mother while I went to the Green Stamp Store to pick up the toys that I had ordered. The man in front of me in line finished his transaction, turned around and said to me "Could you use some stamps?" Well, of course I could, we were always broke and this was how I got extras. The man handed me a book about 3/4 full.

I gave my name to the woman at the counter. While she went to get my order from the back, I thumbed through the catalog in front of me. There was a doll house! With the pages of stamps I would have left from my transaction, plus most of what the stranger had just given me, I had enough stamps to buy it.

When the woman came back with my order, I asked if there were any doll houses left. She said "Oh no, we've been out of those for weeks." I no longer remember if I begged her, or if she simply saw something pathetic in my face, but she rather grudgingly said she would go look in the back, even though she knew it was a waste of time. I will never forget the look on her face as she returned with the doll house in her arms. She said "Someone must have returned this because I know it wasn't there this morning."

Christmas morning Crabgirl and Dolphin stood in the doorway to the living room, hugging each other and naming what they saw in awed voices. They would not take a step toward the Christmas tree until I coaxed them there. It was pure magic. They had believed whole heartedly, and their faith was rewarded.

I have told this story to each child and grandchild as they got to the age of no longer believing in Santa. There may not be a fat man in a red suit, but there certainly is a Santa Claus. He is busy arranging things behind the scenes, and we are part of his plans. So smile at a stranger, hold the door open for someone, contribute to charity, take cookies to your neighbors, or offer something you don't need to a total stranger. It may seem inconsequential to you, but it may be the very thing that gets a starry-eyed little girl her doll house.