Santa Lives
Honesty is a paramount virtue in our household. A few years back I found myself in a crazy
conversation with an ultra-libertarian who subscribed to the notion that kids need to know
the truth about EVERYTHING and asked me what my policy was around Christmas.
I paused for a moment and replied, “My children have gone to bed for the last 9 Christmas Eves
with the giddy anticipation that some man they met in the mall will come down our chimney and
deliver on a promise. And sure enough, for the past 9 years, they found that promise fulfilled.
In fact, I would be lying to them if I told them there was no Santa.”
He looked at me for the rest of the evening as if I were a pony biscuit in the pasture to be avoided.
Every Christmas some magic sweeps over our house and my children enjoy the delicious
mystery of Christmas.
Life was simple up until about the age of nine. The first round of questions were about logistics.
“How does Santa make it to the billions of homes in just one evening, Daddy? I’m worried
he’ll be too tired to come to our home and maybe he’ll miss us.”
A little reassurance was all that was necessary at 9, but at 10 the same question came around.
“Well, I don’t really know for sure and I’ve wondered myself about that very same question.
Maybe there is Santa time where a second to us is like an hour to Santa.” Their smiles
reaffirmed that I was the most brilliant man in the world with all the answers, while I felt lucky.
At 11, I still didn’t know quite how to respond especially since the kids at school were adding
their 2 cents.
“You know, maybe he can’t make it to everyone. It’s only a theory of mine, but maybe the
kids are right. Maybe Santa casts a spell over parents and puts them in a trance that they don’t
remember. What if I tie a string around my toe while I sleep and see if the string gets broken?”
Sure enough, on Christmas Day the kids ran into the bedroom to check the string, even before
rushing down stairs.
On that same Christmas, my son received 3 gifts. The main gift was defective, and the second
gift was a remote controlled dragon fly. He went out into the back yard to fly his dragon fly
and a hawk swooped down and snatched it in mid flight and flew away with it. It was a tough
Christmas understanding why Santa wouldn’t hawk-proof his gifts, but my children still had faith.
This year, my daughter came home with news from the older girls in her ballet class that parents made
Christmas come true. On a pinky swear, I told her that I believed in Santa Claus. I was just as puzzled
as she was with the news.
“Honey, I just don’t get it. No I’ve never seen him and I agree that those guys in the mall
can’t all be Santa, but I just don’t understand how it happens.”
We sat together searching for answers. “Honey, maybe Santa only comes to those who believe.”
“That would make his job easier with fewer kids to visit.” she said.
I explained that some people are in touch with the magic and some are not. “Do you believe
in God?
“Yes”
“Have you ever seen him?”
“No.”
“Who do you think is closer to God, you or me?”
“Me.”
“That’s right. I’m 49 and you are 12. You came from the other place only 12 years ago. It’s
been much longer for me. That’s where the magic is. That’s why younger kids believe. Some
people have the gift for a very long time and others lose it. I suspect that when they lose
it they get a little envious of those who still have it. Maybe they try real hard to get you not
to believe because they are sad.”
“Yes, dad. And maybe the parents have to step in for the non-believers so they can
still have Christmas.”
“Honey, I’m no expert but, you made a really good point.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
So this year, she will go to bed with the giddy anticipation that Santa, and not some fake mall
Santa, will come down our chimney and fulfill a promise. I have a pretty good feeling that her
faith is just strong enough for that promise to BE true.
