Mom, is Santa Real?
Mom, Is Santa real?
My dad had a stationary bike for training which sat in front of our fireplace in our tiny living room. This wasn’t one of those types you see at the gym with the moving handles and Peloton was about 25.years from even being thought of. This was his RACING bike, bolted to this mount so he could train inside through the vicious winters in Ohio (though he still went running outside almost daily and came home with icicles on his mustache and clothes). It was heavy and I never touched it but that bike was instrumental in a major belief impressed upon me throughout life. The spirit of Christmas.
Christmas was always my favorite time of year. I held a deep belief in the magic of the holiday, the spiritual miracle surrounding it, the visual beauty, and don’t even get me started on the passion the music would stir up in me.
My childhood memories are so vivid around this holiday. Some good, some hard and painful. However, there is one in particular that I tend to lean into this time of year. There was always some combination of mass, a dressy Christmas Eve at my grandparents with dinner and gifts, a Christmas eve gift from my parents, and my brother and I looking for Santa’s Sleigh out the car window as we drove the hour back home. Christmas morning was a blur of wrapping paper, gifts, watching the parade on TV, and some food at some point.
As usual, when I was 7 or 8 years old we packed up the car and drove to Dayton Ohio (about an hour from my hometown of Lima) to my grandparent's house for Christmas Eve. When we got home that night (before or after Mass I cannot recall) the lights were on, cookies were missing, presents were under the tree in piles that felt as big as the room, and doors to the fireplace were open with trail soot from the fireplace tracked across the living room carpet. Someone had moved the bike…..
The shock and awe of those first moments realizing there was NO WAY my parents could have done it they were with me. While my childhood brain was immediately convinced 1)there is no way my parents could afford all these packages wrapped so beautifully and 2) Santa MUST be real because NO ONE would have touched that bike.
The magic of that moment has carried me through every Christmas ever since. Throughout high school (and maybe even college) I put out cookies and milk with a little note for Santa. Every morning I would wake up filled with excitement and bursting with joy when I saw “From Santa” on a gift-blatantly ignoring the oh-so-familiar handwriting.
As a mom, my daughter got to an age where the questions began to creep in-is Santa real? Do you believe in Santa? Early on I would easily prove to her all the logistics of why this was a silly question because OBVIOUSLY, he was real. As she grew older, I began to respond with
“I believe in the MAGIC and the SPIRIT of Christmas. And the PURPOSE and the MEANING around it in so many different layers.”
We would discuss the validity of the story of a very large, strange man coming into our home in the middle of the night, through the chimney to drop off gifts versus the VALUE of faith, hope, and love with which the Season consistently spread.
I don’t know, how long my childlike wonders and enjoyment would have lasted had my parents not orchestrated whatever they did so many years ago. Additionally, they never pressed the issue. We actually NEVER talked about whether or not Santa was real. It wasn’t necessary. We just enjoyed the magic. Like Disney. The reality of REALness is goes without saying, but we embrace the MAGIC and the JOY of it. Perhaps I would still have the sparkle I do or perhaps, like so many, I would become immune and desensitized by “reality”.
At this point, it is safe to say I’m glad I got to see my dad’s amazement wondering “where the hell did all these presents come from?” and my mom’s wonderment of “why the hell is their soot all over the carpet?” but if it wasn’t for that bike being moved across the room I would have never developed the deeply personal belief in the magic of what seemed impossible. The spirit of Christmas.
While the holidays are filled with excitement, connection with an overabundance of all things. However, they can also be filled with deep emotions, pain, loneliness, and fear. What you seek you shall find.
This year I challenge you to find the childlike curiosity, the warmth of giving, and the inspirational resiliency towards the future. As you move through these next weeks, I encourage you to remember the value of looking for the JOY around you. Seek it out. Relish the little things which bring joy to yourself and others during this season. Embrace the Magic and Spirit of Christmas.
