He’s a jolly faced fellow, with frost bitten cheeks and a big white beard. He takes snack breaks for cookies & milk at each house he goes to. (It’s a mystery how he fits down that chimney with that belly of his). He’s got 8 pets, small friends and he loves to make toys.
That’s Santa. When you think Christmas, you think Santa. You think presents under your tree, reindeer tracks on your roof, and “to all a good night.” We think about little elves helping him load up his sleigh so he can take off into the night and deliver goodies to every kid in the world (after he checks his list twice). He can sometimes be hasty with the coal (just my family?), but he’s a good hearted representation of what Christmas is all about.
Then you hit 12 years old and suddenly it’s so much harder. We push thoughts of sleighs pulled by reindeer and cookies left for jolly men out of our heads. We don’t think so much about elves, chimneys, or presents under the tree. We used to hear the pitter patter of reindeer on the roof, but not anymore. Somehow, we forget to believe.
We forget that Santa brought us so much more than presents when we were little. We got caught up in the idea of getting. We don’t remember the giddy feeling in our stomach as we climbed in bed to the sound of “he seriously won’t come until you go to bed so stop checking” (just my family?). How we squeezed our eyes shut, begging our brains to hit the hay, desperate for the feeling of Christmas. Before you knew it, Grandma’s cinnamon monkey bread was waking you up from your dead sleep and you’re sprinting down the hall, jumping on your big brother’s bed, ignoring your moms rules about “no presents until the sun comes up.” We get a similar feeling at the first snow, the first thoughts of summer, but nothing hits us quite like the feeling of Christmas.
This year I am begging you to believe. Not in a fat man, not in a big red suit. I don’t expect you to believe that eight reindeer pull around enough presents for all of the kids in the world. I’m not begging you to believe that a man that size can fit down your chimney, or super small people make all of your presents. But that doesn’t mean you can’t believe in magic.
Believe in the magic of Christmas Eve. Believe in the feeling you get before you go to bed, jittery with the excitement that tomorrow will bring. Believe in your family and believe in spending time with them as you celebrate. Believe in snow covered cities, gingerbread houses and candy canes. Ice skating, decorating the tree, and extra large socks that hang from your fireplace. Believe in little toddlers who believe.
Santa brings us a spirit of giving in the holidays. The idea that one man spends his entire year making you happy for a day. He brings us the idea of happiness and of sacrifice. Santa means more than just chimneys, presents and reindeer.
So if you don’t believe in a big, red, jolly man, at least believe in that.
“Even though she was a grown woman, she believed in elves and SANTA CLAUS and flying reindeer & sacks with an endless capacity of toys. Furthermore, she believed that believing in these things was the chief reason that she had more fun in life than others.”
