1. The Rag Doll
It was a bitterly cold Christmas Eve and Nancy was struggling to get thirty six very excited children
to bed. No easy task, as the snow had been falling all day and, thrilling as it was for the children,
Nancy could have done without all that extra excitement. It was going to be impossible to calm
the little ones down enough so that they’d go to sleep.
The war was over at last and Nancy was determined to make this a special Christmas for the
children. Seventeen years I’ve been here now she thought. So many Christmases. She still
looked back on the day that she’d arrived, still thought about her mother, and how she’d felt first
looking at those gates at the entrance to Nazareth House. And yet she’d made a life here, found
a job – or more of a vocation it was really, she supposed – looking after the children in the
nursery. It was a job she loved, even on the longest, most tiring days, when the chores seemed
never-ending.
Christmas Eve, and still so much to do! The orphanage was full this year, the war had added to
the numbers, there was no doubt about thatbut Nancy was determined thatevery child would have
a wonderful Christmas. She was worried though; times were hard, of course, and although they
had donations of sweets and fruit for the children, there were very few toys to give them.
There were no Santa sacks or brightly coloured stockings for these children so Nancy had tied
pretty coloured ribbons and bells, just like her own mother had shown her, to each of the socks
which would dangle at the end of the thirty-six beds. Earlier today, the children had been allowed
to visit the kitchen to bake biscuits with Cook. Nancy looked round the dormitory at the crumbs all
over the floor and the drops of spilt milk. Who cares she thought? The children had smiles on
their faces and there had been lots of laughter as they put out the milk and biscuits for Santa and
the reindeer. The story books had been read,prayerssaid and finally, the children were beginning
to settle. I will clear up when they are asleep, said Nancy to herself,and please let it be soon! She
smiled.
Just as Nancy reached for the light, there was an excited whisper from one of the little girls. “My
friend at school is getting a rag doll for Christmas………can you imagine how wonderful that would
be, a rag doll?

2. It was simply too much. Nancy felt a catch at the back of her throat and had to will the tears to
stay back. One tear did manage to escape and she wiped it hurriedly away on her apron. This
simply will not do, she said to herself. Pull yourself together! Lots to do, lots to do!
It was fine, really it was. A very kind benefactor to the orphanage had sent little cars for the boys
and the stockings with the sweets and oranges for each child looked so pretty. For goodness
sake, stop worrying, Nancy told herself. It had been a wonderful Christmas Eve for the children
and everything had gone to plan. Her pleas to the cook to let the children bake biscuits had been
granted and the children’s squeals could be heard all along the corridors. The paper lanterns the
children had made were draped all around the dining room and the playroom. Nancy smiled
remembering the children’s squeals of delight when they were hung up. Yes, it had been a
wonderful day.
As night-time drew near, Nancy went to close the curtains and paused to watch the snow still
falling. “It will be fine”, she said quietly to herself.
And yet those whispered words stayed with her. A rag doll………..can you imagine.
Well she would have to do something, it was up to her to make it happen. After all, Christmas was
a time for miracles, wasn’t it?
Post-war austerity for once worked in her favour. In 1946, nothing was thrown away. Old clothes
were torn up into rags; buttons, ribbons and scraps of wool were all saved. Nancy got out her
button box too. Some of the rags were used to tie round the girls’ hair to make ringlets on special
occasions but Nancy had another idea that night. She spread out everything she could find on the
large table next to the sewing machine then she began. Hour after hour, the snow still falling, the
radio in the corner of the room playing Christmas carols, Nancy rolled and cut the rags to make
dolls, sewed buttons on for eyes, wool for their hair and ribbon to tie it. She sewed until the early
hours of the morning not even stopping for a cup of tea.
It really was a miracle, thought Nancy, that she had just finished putting the last rag doll into the
last stocking when the chapel bells rang 9 o’clock.
Today the children didn’t need to be summoned twice. They jumped out of bed and rushed to the
stockings hanging at the end of their beds.
“Oh my goodness, I have rag doll”
“Me too”

3. “Me too, what colour is yours? Mine has a pink dress!
“Oh mine has blue eyes just like me”
And so it went on.
Tiredness forgotten, Nancy stood and watched them and listened to the sound of excited and
happy children. Christmas is magic, she said to herself, then hurried away to begin breakfast.
If it was possible to look into someone’s soul, it would have been an honour to see Nancy’s at
that moment. It must have been so pure and beautiful.
Somewhere in the world today those children will have celebrated many Christmas mornings with,
I imagine, a little more than an orange and a rag doll. I am also sure that never will their hearts
have been filled with so much joy as they were that Christmas morning in 1946 when they received
the greatest love of all.
Nancy, my mother. God bless you always. I love and miss you every single day.