Hi everyone. I hope you all had a great Christmas, hopefully with lots of rest amidst that rush, and I hope you survived Boxing Day unscathed, if you live in a country that recognizes it. I myself have had a great Christmas. I’ve been in lazy-loungey mode for the past few days, but am looking forward to using the energy I’ve gathered to start getting things done.
But before I get back into work mode, I wanted to talk a little bit about Santa Claus.
We don’t know each other very well, but I’m familiar with his work and have great respect for all that he does. In a sleigh pulled by reindeer and laden with toys, he delivers gifts to every single house in the whole entire world, in a single night, by flying through the air and dropping down the chimney. Well, if you believe the stories.
I don’t think he gets to every house, unfortunately. I get the sense, from what I know of him and what I’ve been able to guess, that he’s afraid of places which are dark, and desolate, and are filled up with fear and dread. I don’t think Santa likes to go to those homes–maybe he physically can’t bring himself to go there–and so sadly there are so many houses that are missed on Christmas Eve.
I have great respect for Santa Claus, of course, because he can do such amazing things, travelling across the world and slipping down chimneys (when he allegedly has quite a large girth). But I have even greater respect for him because of the things he doesn’t do–well, didn’t mean to do.
That Santa Claus guy became a legend. He became a man of myth and wonder, delighting children with his presents and care, and the stories probably escalated beyond anything he could have dreamed. But I’m so glad they did.
Because of Santa Claus, children all over the world are given a reason to believe, to whole-heartedly, faithfully believe in magic.
Even if it’s only for a few years, at least there was a little bit of belief. At least they had the chance to live enchanted lives, to see beautiful days, to believe that impossible things can happen. Some kids forget to believe in magic after a while. They forget that it’s real, that it’s more than just card tricks and illusions. Some kids are lucky enough to remember, to hold it with them all their lives through.
But for many of us, we discover in later years that even though we’ve forgotten about magic, we can still learn how to believe again. We can still open up our hearts and let in that blind faith.
Santa came to my house on Christmas Eve. He didn’t drop off any presents–my sister and I have outgrown toys–but I heard him for just a moment. He paused on the roof, I think. Just stopped there, probably to stretch out his back, maybe rub his hands together to warm them up. I could hear the bells on his reindeer’s harnesses, jingling ever so quietly. They’re hard to hear, unless you’re listening. And I was. I knew he’d be around.
The thing is, Santa never forgets a house. He’s been running the same route for years and he knows every single stop along the way. But he’s maybe not as brave as the stories say. He’s a little shy, I think, and loses his nerve when he comes to a house where people are unhappy, or fighting, or don’t believe in magic anymore. Sometimes he can gather enough courage to go in anyways, but not always. It’s sad. I wish I could help him, to give him that extra boost of strength so he could give his presents to the kids who need them most.
I admire Santa Claus, and I hope that his career lasts long into the future, and that he’s always there to help kids all over the world. Because even though he’s afraid of despair, he’s sometimes the cure for it.
I hope you all had a great Christmas, and spent it with family and friends if you could. I hope that Santa was also able to visit your home. I hope you still believe.
How were your holidays?
May Santa never pass over your house at Christmastime.