The heart has a communication all its own. That's the philosophy of corporate trainer and speaker Petey Parker.

I saw her put this belief in action when I was invited to Petey's home on Christmas Eve. Every available couch, chair and tabletop was covered with teddy bears of all colors, shapes and sizes, the donations from friends, business acquaintances and many others. Bears sat on every staircase tread, beckoning with outstretched paws to be picked up for a back-to-your-youth squeeze. While the guests enjoyed fellowship, food and drinks, there was an unspoken mission behind the gathering - the guests were there to pack up the bears in Container Store drawstring Santa sacks, and take them to area hospitals and retirement homes in the morning.

Every year, Petey and her husband Jim Fite, dress up like Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus. With "It's showtime!" energy, they and their teddy-laden helpers bring cheer to emergency room families, critical care children, and elderly patients on Christmas morning. It's a time when many need it the most.

"Sometimes families just need the diversion," shrugs Petey, who also owns a custom-made Easter Bunny costume.

Speaking of Easter, hubby Jim and his sister/partner Jan hold an annual banquet, golf tournament and silent auction every October benefiting Easter Seals. So when Petey wants to fill every corner of their spacious townhome with teddy bears every December, Jim is certainly not one to object. He's a little like a teddy bear himself - big, open-armed, and caring. It's nothing to step over a few bears here and there.

Delivering bears to the wounded and ill is not for the faint-hearted. It takes nerves of steel. You see things you wish you hadn't, and you feel things that are hard to control. But Petey and Jim and their intrepid volunteers know what they are undertaking.

Petey can sniff sadness faster than a K-9 can point to a suitcase full of drugs. She's learned when a turned back really means "I need a pat." She expects people to say startling things sometimes, like last year when a little old woman accepted a teddy bear and said, "This is the last gift I'll ever receive." She knows that you give a sympathetic ear, acknowledge what people say with their eyes, and move on when it's time. That's something even the neediest seem to understand. They let go with a smile - the show must go on.

While not facing critical care or an accident crisis themselves, the party helpers have their share of troubles, too. One beautiful guest, a rock star in her native Canada, was brokenhearted by her secret-holding television star boyfriend. One family's patriarch couldn't find a job this year. He had trouble with his feelings, until he was recruited by Petey to be a Santa, and he was able to let the tears go. One guest had been mildly ill for weeks, and was scared to go a specialist for fear of being poked around in the most awful places.

Petey has sympathy for these not-quite-emergency-room heartaches, too. You get her full attention whether you are nursing a paper cut or battling cancer.

It's funny, but the partygoers who seemed to be aching the most, were the ones who got up the next day to join the volunteers to deliver the teddy bears. It's almost as if Petey knows they need to volunteer as much as she needs them to.

Every year, it seems to work out - enough bears, enough volunteers. Sometimes there are a few bears left over to give to the local police who take them along on cruises, just in case.

Happy New Year, and may your aches be forgotten to ease someone else's.