Dorothy Sanchas
Dot Sanchas, the lady who brought Christmas gifts to poor families for many years died on 28 October 2008. I wrote this about her:
I remember awakening on many Christmas mornings and wandering to our shabby Christmas tree, wondering if there would be anything that year for me. Most seasons, I saw had few gifts, wrapping paper, or bows.
But my eighth Christmas season had not spread feelings bright or cheerful that I recall. A knock on the door resulted in puzzled glances between my mother and father. When the front door was slowly pulled open by dad, there stood the infamous man in the red suit carrying a large bag of brightly wrapped gifts. Standing behind Santa was a lady with a big box of food.
I must confess that I do not remember the lady as a person, but more as a vague bright light with a halo of white hair. Funny how minds can distort reality and save beautiful images. A friendly, cheerful smile and a kind word were given, along with a toy and warm mittens for each of us. I wonder now how eight children and two adults fit into the budget of her small volunteer organization. I still praise our anonymous benefactor(s) all those years ago. Mother cried at such a windfall in such a lean year, ensuring we each gave a hug and thank you in return to both Ms. Sanchas and Santa Claus.
Dorothy “Dot” Sanchas believed Jesus' words encouraged everyone to help each other and to pray everyday. "There are always people who can be helped, no matter where you look. Something as simple as a hug and reassurance spreads His Word." She did not just help my family, but also founded "Santa's Helpers" in the Rumford, Maine area in the late 1970s to help provide clothing, gifts and food for all in need over the Holiday season.
Santa's Helpers spun off another helping idea for the off-Christmas season called The Free Store. Starting in the back of her station wagon, where she would sometimes park in needy areas in the surrounding communities until the car was empty. From the cargo area and seats of a family car she moved on to working out of her well stocked family garage as the donations poured in to help the needy. The Free Store is now a large building in Mexico, Maine, a community with a slowly withering economy. People still stream in to get donated necessities for free.
Right after Dot died at 3:30 a.m. on that October day, this beautiful lady who has meant light and hope to so many had a divine visitation. Family members said the Savior in all His Glory appeared on the side of her house in the moonlight. Like Christ at Gethsemane kneeling at the rock with angels at his feet, it seems He was coming to lead another of His angels home. When the rain came, the family said, it was like tears from heaven.
She was buried far away in my old hometown, so I did not make it to her funeral to say goodbye. Instead I said a prayer of thanks for this beautiful lady who gave to so many. Dot, you gave my family so much more than a sack full of wrapped toys long ago. You gave us the fruit of human kindness, nurtured in your loving, Christian heart. You taught me that the season is for giving, just as God gave his only Son that others may live.
For those of you in the Rumford and Mexico, Maine area, and her beautiful family, wherever you may be, continue to carry the torch Ms. Sanchas lit, I thank you and praise you. Remember there is always human need and poverty. Thank you for keeping her dream of giving alive. May God bless and watch over you as you help others on Christmas Day and every day.
Cheltie, A Puppy
"Daddy can I have a pet?"
My daughter, Emily had asked me a dozen times, and I had answered no, the same amount of times. "My apartment is too small. I am hardly ever home when you are at your mom's. I am already watching Kimi's puppy and kitty."
"Dad, I want a pet of my own, I will watch him and take care of him, and clean up after him. I promise!"
"Hon, I don't know. Remember what happened to your hermit crabs?" Ah yes, hermit crabs. The easiest pet in the world to watch. "Great interactive fun for kids aged 8 to 88." They just needed a damp sponge and a pinch of food a day. They stay happy inside their crab cage and make no noise. In fact, MJ, the first, was not vocal enough to say: "Hey, don't leave me in the car in the Louisiana sun!"
Emily's grief at her first pet dying and my subsequent "this crab’s eternal shell," words at a burial spot in the corner of my fiance's flower garden slightly diminished my fervor for allowing her another pet.
Two weeks later, her replacement crab, Dakota, fell out of its painted shell in a wad of stilled legs and motionless tentacles. A pet? Live? "Hmm, this is going to be tricky."
"Please daddy?"
"Well, what do you have in mind?" How easy I wavered whenever Emily wanted anything. No begging, no pleading, just repeating herself was usually enough.
"I want a puppy of my own. Kimi is going to get hers back after she has her baby. You said."
"A puppy? Puppies are expensive."
"What if I find one?"
"Find one? People don't just find puppies."
"But I found one daddy. He is on the steps eating milk and cereal."
I bounded over and pulled open the front door. There sitting on the front deck was a brown handful of dirty fur and baleful eyes lapping Cheerios out of one of my Disney soup mugs.
"Hun, he has to be someone's pet. Where did you find him?" I asked, sure that he belonged to one of the neighbors, who had a tendency to let children and pets run free.
"I saw him up by the highway when I was coming home from the store."
"Were you up by the highway Emily?" I asked, worried.
"No dad, he was by the store road." An independent seven year old, I sometimes let her walk the two blocks to the country store. I was beginning to regret it.
"He was hungry and all alone, and I thought if I were hungry and all alone, I would want a friend and a home."
How could I argue with that logic? "Well, let me look at him and see if he has a tag."
"Cheltenham. That's a different name." 701-623-6623...hmmmm.... "Hun, he has a name and telephone number on his tag!"
"Dad, I know where that is."
"Where what is? The phone number?"
"No Cheltenham. I know where it is."
"In North Dakota? Never heard of it."
"No. It is in England. Remember? My friend Maisie and her mom live there."
"Ems, sweetie, this dog is not from England."
"How do you know dad?"
"If it was from England, it would bark with an accent."
"Dad!" Exasperation was evident in her tone.
"Grab my cell phone for me baby."
"Why?"
"I am going to call the owners and tell them they lost their puppy."
"But dad... I bet they didn't want it, or they were mean and he ran away. Does your cell go all the way to England? What if he's Maisie's puppy?"
Ring. Ring. "This number has been temporarily disconnected."
No problem. I can do a Google search and it should tell me where they live, the number can't have been disconnected for long.
www.google.com.
Your search - 701-623-6623 - did not match any documents.
Suggestions:
- Make sure all words are spelled correctly.
Suggestions? Suggestions. Maybe we should take him inside and let him warm up, then give him a bath while I think of how to get him reunited with his family.
"Hun don't pet him and play with him too much or you won't want him to leave."
I spent two days half heartedly calling friends, asking them what I should do. Then I made the kind of decision only a dad can make.
Under Emily's guidance, I took off the puppy's ragged blue collar and bought him a red one with a tag that said "Cheltie," then bought him his own bowl and a sweater, just in case he got cold.
Now boy puppy, girl puppy, kitty and me, sit and snuggle on the sofa. We wait for Christmas, when Emily will return to visit.
Comments