Growing up I can't exactly pinpoint when I stopped believing Santa was real, in fact I can't think of when I ever did. My parents always let us put cookies out Christmas Eve, write letters, and even go sit on "Santa's" lap at the firehouse every year; they were never anti-Santa, they were just pro making sure my sister and I knew what the real reason for the season was. The birthday of a little baby swaddled in a manger, named Jesus, whom would grow up to be Christ our Savior. They told us about the angel who came to Mary with news that she would be giving birth to a little baby, how the angel came to the shepherds watching their sheep with joyful news, and how the three wise men followed the star to bring little Jesus three gifts. That's what I grew up believing and that's something I never did nor will I grow out of.

My parents didn't carry many traditions growing up; hiding the pickle in the tree, trading back-and-forth who got to put the nativity or the village up of the Christmas decorations each year, and we each got three gifts for Christmas. Of course, my mother always cheated and put multiple things in one box, but it was the idea that we would remember the holiday wasn't about the gifts, it's about the birth of our King. The three gifts were a reminder of the Christmas story for us. This is something I have started with my children and I pray they continue with their children one day. It will never be about the gifts, decor, or even Santa, but it will always be about the celebration of the birth of our King. There is no reason you cannot celebrate with all of the extra fun things, but it's always important to remember the whole reason for the season.