© Yoon Wan Hee, (The Parsonage Letter, 40th Story, December 12, 2007)

In the winter of 1942, the Santa Claus train departed from Kingsport, Tennessee, heading toward the Kentucky and Virginia regions. This was a gesture of appreciation from the Kingsport Merchants Association for the patronage of the poor neighbors living along the Appalachian Mountains who traveled to Kingsport to shop. The Santa Train, which began with a small and sincere heart, has been covered by the media year after year, becoming a beautiful symbol of Christmas memories for many people. This year, too, the train carrying Santa traveled a 110-mile stretch of railway, making 11 stops to distribute Christmas gifts to cheering children.

Years ago, I briefly saw a news report on TV about the Santa Train throwing Christmas gifts to children as it passed through the Appalachian Mountains. I felt as if I was watching a childhood dream unfold in the excited faces of the children and parents waiting for the train—which was breathlessly climbing the ridgeline, pushing through the snowy forests. How long did the children wait for that day Santa was coming, and how much did their hearts already hover near the railway tracks? They probably woke up before dawn and ran down the frosted slopes to the train line. How startled were the forests as the children rustled through, and how anxious were the sleeping birds and wild animals, pricking up their ears and tensing until their footsteps disappeared! And how happy must have been the poor single mothers, single fathers, and elderly parents raising their grandchildren, upon hearing the news that Santa Claus was visiting! Now, after all the years, as the whirlwind of time has passed and we have taken root in this very place, Kingsport, witnessing the activities of the Santa Train firsthand brings mixed emotions.

The lives of the poor deep within the Appalachian mountains remain largely unchanged from the past, characterized by a challenging environment. Many live in trailers between the forests without electricity, running water, or bathroom facilities. Furthermore, this area is a silent scene of alcohol and drug addiction, domestic violence, and child abuse. Of course, there are also many who enjoy a comfortable and happy life amidst cultural amenities and the bounty and beauty of nature. However, for those whose families have settled here for generations, simple labor or unemployment often means they live below the minimum subsistence level, receiving little to no medical care.

Every summer, the non-profit medical aid organization Remote Area Medical Health Expedition (RAM, http://www.ramusa.org) provides free medical services in Wise County, Virginia. This year, over 8,000 local residents visited during the three-day event. Residents began arriving the day before, waiting in tents and cars, and by 6 AM, over 500 people were waiting for the medical staff in the pouring rain. Today, they continue to live with the urgent need for simple treatments: tooth extractions, antibiotics for injuries, cataract surgery, eye exams, and treatment for skin conditions.

The Santa Train is running with a resonant stillness across the ridge of my soul, which feels only busy and scattered ahead of Christmas. It reminds me that the place where I must meet the infant Jesus is not under a Christmas tree, nor among the crowds of a busy department store, but in the humble, marginalized stable.