Tuesday, December 14, 2010
The Truth about Santa Claus
It seems that now more than ever, I hear a lot of talk about this topic. I would like to put in my two cents. I believe in Santa Claus.
Once upon a time, I was an eight-year-old girl, the fourth of eight children. One night in December, my parents announced that a special visitor would be coming to our house. Before long, Kris Kringle rang our doorbell. (This was his legal name.) He was jolly, thick man with a full white beard. He wore a red suit.
While he was in our little house, each of us children got a turn to sit on his lap and tell him what we wanted for Christmas. That year was my turn to do an extra-curricular activity and I was enrolled in gymnastics. My Christmas list consisted of a gymnastics mat, a typewriter that could type both red and black, and a reversible coat (two coats in one!). I gave Mr. Kringle the list of my heart's desires and he gave me a candy cane and a coloring book.
When it was time for our special guest to leave, he said this, "I have to get back to the North Pole now. I am going to leave a little surprise for you on the porch, but don't open anything until Christmas Day. It will take me a couple of minutes to hitch up my sleigh and reindeer. Don't look out the window for a full ten minutes to give me enough time to leave, okay?"
I remember two things about the next ten minutes: my parents kept wrestling us away from the living room curtains and it was the longest ten minutes of my life.
At the end of the allotted time, when we opened our front door, we saw magic. Our entire porch, which ran the length of our rancher, was covered in wrap presents--piles and piles of gifts of every size.
Christmas morning, when we were finally allowed to rip into those packages, what do you think I found?
Yep: a gymnastics mat, a typewriter that could type both red and black, and a reversible coat--with zip-off sleeves (an added bonus from the elves, I guessed)!
Now, some people say that Santa Claus is not real, but I know differently. I have never been to the North Pole so I cannot speak of the existence of a massive workshop manned by little people, but I can speak of the magic-making love I have felt this and other Christmas mornings. I believe that love and manifestations of it can come from many sources. And if those sources fall under the name, "Santa Claus," I am totally fine with that. I welcome Santa and his magic into my home and his love into the hearts of my children. He was a very tender part of my childhood and I hope someday my children will say the same.