Lessons from Santa

My most cherished memories from Christmas’ of my childhood involve Santa. My parents worked hard to make the magic come alive for my brother and I. Later, when my sisters arrived, it was a family effort to create the magic for them.

In recent years, the dream of Santa has come under attack. Many Christians don’t want their kids to confuse Santa with God and somehow leave God when they outgrow Santa. I don’t want to debate with you; I like to debate but it seems like a futile argument to me.

At my house, we believe in Santa. We write letters to Santa. We know that Santa watches for good boys and girls. We put out cookies and milk. We put carrots on the deck for the reindeer. We move the fireplace screen to leave room for Santa to get in. We actively believe in Santa.

This year I really had to evaluate why believing in Santa was important. There are members of our family who do not teach their children to believe in Santa and can be pretty mocking of our doing so. Our oldest has become very particular and detailed oriented. We had to be so very careful to keep her belief alive.

She asked Santa to bring her cowgirl boots, a cowgirl hat and a turquoise cowgirl vest. Now I am a pretty resourceful shopper and love to bargain hunt. I looked all over and found the cutest boots and hat to actually fit her little clover shaped head. But no matter where I shopped, there was no finding a turquoise cowgirl vest. I found pink leather and brown cowhide. But no turquoise. Oh and did I mention that she came up with this request on December 19th? I had 6 days…

Believing in Santa is partly about trusting your dreams to someone else to see if they can come true. My daughter communicated a dream to me and it was my responsibility to make it a reality. In doing so, I reinforced her ability to have faith. So, two days before Christmas I made a vest out of turquoise bandanas and pink beads. I don’t enjoy sewing nor am I good at it. But, I finished it on the afternoon of Christmas Eve.

On Christmas morning, I emerged from my room to begin breakfast and found both of my daughters tearing into Santa’s gift in the dark. I yelled! I screamed! I was so mad at them that I sent them to their room. In examining the carnage after they left, I found that they had opened everything that Santa had brought to them, their brother, my husband and even me. I wasn’t mad because they had woken up early. I was mad because I had missed that moment. I had missed seeing their faith reinforced. I had missed the sheer joy of finding your dreams fulfilled.

This year Santa taught me to believe in the power of forgiveness. After a just punishment, we all had to forgive each other and move on to cherish Christmas together. It was hard for me because I was still grieving the loss of that moment. It was hard for the girls because they were really mad at me for wrecking their fun. But, having faith in someone means forgiving them when they don’t meet your expectations.

We believe in Santa and all the lessons that belief brings with it…