I remember the last Christmas that I believed in Santa Claus. I decided to get to the bottom of this Santa Claus thing once and for all. I don’t know how old I was but I remember being so sure that if Santa was real he would eat the cookies I left for him. If my cookies remained intact then this whole Santa Claus thing was a fraud. If Santa was a fraud, then the whole world was upside down But if Santa was real, everything was as it should be.
Christmas morning I literally jumped out of bed (top bunk) and ran to the table where I left the cookies. Not only were they gone, but Santa left me a note! He thanked me for the cookies and hoped I liked my presents. And then my dad opened the front door and showed me the reindeer tracks in the yard. And I believed.
My parents had gone to great lengths to keep Santa Claus real for me. Sure, eating the cookies was easy; my mom made those and they were always delish. But my parents had to spend the entire season answering my questions. How does Santa get in the house without a chimney? Where do the elves come from? If reindeer can fly what’s the big deal about martians? (Shut up). And then on Christmas Eve my dad went outside and made the most perfect reindeer tracks in the snow.
There was magic in all of this, and of all the gifts I’ve received over the years, it has been the magic that has remained. The magic of giving, the magic of sharing, the magic of wonder and curiosity and asking questions. The magic of walking out into the yard and saying “WOW!! Daddy look!!” The magic of love is the true Christmas miracle.
Merry Christmas everyone. May you all hold the Christmas miracle in your hearts.