I Believe In Santa Claus.....

As a child, my parents worked hard to make this time of year magical.  My mother would stay up all night decorating the house so that when we woke up, it would be magically decorated, by elves of course.  Every Christmas TV Special was another event and we sat down as a family to watch each and every one.  My mother baked cookies it seemed just about every day. My father played Christmas music on the record player all day. And when we watched Miracle on 34^th Street, my father would excitedly point out this is the true story and that is not an actor, it is the REAL Santa Claus.  Each Sunday, we celebrated a new Sunday in Advent, always being reminded, gently, what Christmas really is all about. The Christmas tree and stockings didn’t go up until Christmas Eve and again, this was an event.  We would all decorate the tree together.  The evening of Christmas Eve, we all went to church to be part of the Christmas Pageant and Children’s Choir.   It was truly a fascinating and special time of year.  I grew up believing absolutely anything was possible.  I have worked tirelessly trying to create the same for my children but I cannot help but feel I am falling terribly short on this particular part of parenthood.  

Somewhere along the way, it just stopped feeling magical.  I worked hard to try and buy it for my children for years, purchasing every item on their wish list.  And for a brief moment, they were happy. I would decorate the home with garland and lights and bows and play Christmas Music all day.  I could still be as excited as the boys waiting enthusiastically for Santa.  

Aidan’s last Christmas, I had purchased him a kids tool bench.  I was so exhausted that I didn’t take the time to build it.  I wrapped it in the big box.  He was jumping up and down and smiling once he opened it and there is and was nothing I wouldn’t do for that smile but the craziness of Christmas took over and then the day after New Year’s Aidan was back in the hospital, the tool bench still in the box.  The boys built the tool bench for him while he was there, but Aidan never got to play with it, not even once.  I ended up giving it away along with all his other gifts too. 

  This was the year, I stopped believing in Santa Claus and all he represented.  I gave it up.

I stopped believing in the magic.  I had lost focus on what really mattered.  I stopped caring and fought hard to try to find it in something else.  I did my best to fake it but nothing seemed to make it magical, in fact it seemed to only become harder and get worse.  And the more people around me tried, the harder it was.  I went through the motions for the sake of my children as long as I possibly could but I was suffocating.  

Through the years, we have been shown incredible kindness and generosity, the kind right out of a Hallmark Christmas Movie but it somehow still felt disconnected for me.  I was still missing something.  I think about that tool bench and what it represents, the reality that the stuff is just stuff, what is valuable are the moments and once the moments are missed they are gone forever.  But when we treasure the moments, even the little ones, they never leave us.  

I love teaching my children about the Advent Wreath the way my parents did.  Each candle representing the true gifts of our world, Faith, Hope, Joy, and Love.  This is the one tradition I have kept the same, as my parents as much so as possible, anyway, and in my more spiritual, less religious way of existing in this world.  I realized this year the boys were excited to unpack, not the stockings and ornaments and lights, but the little old and worn Advent Wreath.  They are excited to light the candle each night at dinner and much to my surprise, my son whom I thought never cared at all about this tradition, rolling his eyes as I spoke about the gifts, recalled each candles meaning this year before I even began.  

I have thought a lot the past week about why the Advent wreath has been such a long standing tradition that now even my children get excited for it.  I think it’s because when everything else is taken away, the boys and I have learned, no one and nothing can truly take away our faith, hope, joy, and love.  Those gifts are for us to nourish and either live or let go of.  I will be the first to admit, my faith has been shaken to its core and with that went my hope and joy.  

This past week, my faith and hope in people was returned tenfold by the kindness of one small boy and a very simple and kind gesture.  While at work with one of my classes, I made a joke that I was going to need to ask Santa for new crayons as I pulled out my purposely broken crayons.  I should disclose, I work in an inner-city school.  Most of my students are growing up in very difficult and challenging circumstances to say the least, many parents cannot even afford to buy a folder for their child and this little boy was no exception to this status.  He got up from his seat and went over to his cubby box and pulled out a bag full of brand new crayons. 

 “I can share these with every one, is that okay?”  he asked.

His action startled me at first as he has not always been my most cooperative student.  “Of course,” I answered him.  “That is so kind of you.  I’m really so proud of you.” I continued to praise his kindness and his smile continued to grow.  At the conclusion of the session, I returned the crayons to him in his bag and again thanked him for being so generous.  As I turned to take the children into the hall, I noticed him quietly and gently slip the brand new crayons into my bag.  I had to catch my breath and blink back my tears.  In that moment I thought, that is the sweetest, smallest Santa I never imagined.  

I realized as I thought about this simple moment, that I might just believe in Santa Claus again.  Maybe just believing is where we find that joy and magic.  That little boy may never know how much he touched my heart that day but I will never forget his incredible generosity and kindness and what he really gave me.

One of my all-time favorite Christmas stories I make all my children listen to me read each year is Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus. I began reading this to them in response to the annual question, "Mom, is Santa Claus real? Do YOU believe in Santa?"  I couldn't lie but I also had quite a few years that I couldn't tell the truth either so I read this story instead.  It was always my very favorite and truly such an incredible message of hope for our world.  My hope is for my children, this faith and belief in the good things of our world remains with them as they continue on their life’s journey with its ups and downs.

 My favorite part written by Francis P. Church is as follows:

“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence.”

There simply is no amount of money or gifts that can buy what we all really desire which is the love and generosity and hope and faith and joy we long to experience to, as Francis P. Church so eloquently says, “…make tolerable this existence.”  Without these all those visually beautiful objects beneath the tree are nothing and ultimately inconsequential.    Francis P. Church also speaks about the importance of believing in what we cannot see and the complexity of our world which we may never truly comprehend.   

So, yes boys, I believe in Santa Claus….