Do You Believe In Santa?
I once lied to my children. But for good reason, I wanted them to believe, believe in Santa.
When I was a child my mom was Mrs. Christmas. Each year our tree had a theme even when we couldn’t afford five ornaments. One year my mom insisted we create a decoupage tree. A year later we were instructed the theme was the Bicentennial. Stockings. Egg nog. Fudge. Wrapping paper. Church. The nativity. The advent calendar. I was raised to believe in all things Christmas. In Santa and his elves. And in that star that shone in the east, the one that led the wise men to that cave where the child lay.
When I became a mother, I decided instead of decoupage trees we’d have a annual Christmas party for children and the guest of honor would be Santa. A santa delivering home made gifts, especially made and wrapped for every child. And so I conspired and searched high and low for my Santa. And what to my wondering blessings but a friend that was a wood maker volunteered. An angel dressed up like a man was this Santa who year after year arrived near the rooftop and descended into those children’s evening in all his Santa glory with a bag full of hand made toys.
I once lied to my children. I told them Santa was real.
And then a plane crash took our Santa back to where his generous heart was created. He departed with his wife, daughter, son in law and a few friends. It was a dark day. The day our Santa died.
I wanted to lie to my children that day. The day Santa died. But instead I told them the truth. Santa was real and he was called back to where he’d come from…
Sometimes God sends us a person who confounds everything we’ve come to know about people. A person who is generous who gives to those who can never repay him. A soul that is deep and connected to good that is not of this planet let alone world. Santa is like that.
I once lied to my children. But for good reason. I wanted them to believe.
I’m not sure what you believe in. All I know is that Santa is real. And there are many of them traveling this world dressed up like normal everyday people. They create believers of all of us. Evidence of the loving and abundant nature of our Creator.
I believe. I believe…
I once lied to my children. But for good reason, I wanted them to believe…
Oh dear Santa Bob-there is not a month I do not wish you were here to remind me of all that is loving and good. I can never thank you enough for showing up for my children and loving them so unconditionally. For all the bags of candy you delivered at soccer and basketball games, even though I threatened you with your life. For all the Christmas parties. All those Santa hours. All the beautiful handmade gifts you made. All the precious moments of belief you sparked there in that room as child by child climbed into your lap. Thank you for helping me create a moment to believe in…I love you Santa. I miss you and yes- this year I’ll do my best to be as generous and loving as you were Santa. Miss you.