Posted on 12/21/2025 4:02:05 PM PST by ebb tide

There’s no place on earth like New York City at Christmas.
The sidewalks in Herald Square feel like a slow-moving river of scarves and shopping bags. Rockefeller Center’s tree draws crowds who gaze with awe upon its lights. St. Patrick’s Cathedral gets dressed for the season with garland and wreaths, and there is also that familiar hush that somehow survives the roar of Fifth Avenue.
But if you wanted to find where Christmas really lives here, you’d find it nestled between the East River and Midtown’s skyscrapers in what might be the most sacred gymnasium in Manhattan for a few glorious hours at the Sisters of Life Christmas party and Nativity pageant.
The room was old, a little worn and brightly lit, until the pageant began. Then the lights went down, and for a moment the whole place paused. A hush. A ripple of anticipation.
And out in the darkness came the opening cue for a little drummer boy named Jose, weaving his way through the crowd, banging his drum loudly and proudly.
(Excerpt) Read more at ncregister.com ...
But in the middle of the chaos and the joy, there’s an unspoken truth: Some of these children are alive today because of the Sisters of Life.
Mothers came to them afraid, uncertain, sometimes carrying stories too hard to bear. They were supported, loved, cared for — and they said Yes to the miracle of new life.
Their children are here today.
These miracles have faces.
Ping
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