Has Santa always been controversial? When I was a kid I didn't know anyone whose family didn't include Santa as part of their December celebrations. Well, other than my Jewish friends but they got presents for eight days straight which always made us just a little bit envious.
My own parents didn't go overboard. I mean my dad never donned a red suit or climbed out on the roof to ring sleigh bells but he did love the excitement of Christmas morning. And my mother stayed up til ridunculous hours getting our stockings filled and making sure everything would be just so when her family descended the stairs at o'dark thirty. I think most mothers would agree that Santa would be nothing were it not for
Mrs. Claus.
In recent years it seems there is much discussion about the influence of Santa...the commercial side of Christmas has definitely been amped up a hundred fold since I was a kid. I do know that as a child I never confused Santa with Jesus. We heard the real Christmas story at Christmas time (and throughout the year) and were taught the importance and real meaning of the day. Santa Claus was something else and we understood this.
We knew we'd go to church at Christmas time. We went to church every Sunday and Christmas would be no exception. Besides I loved church, especially in December. As an adult the Christmas Eve service has become my favorite part of the holiday. Even so, the excitement that built as Christmas day rolled around, that sense of anticipation my siblings and I felt, is something I will never forget.
I remember going to bed on Christmas Eve feeling like my heart might burst. It was full. I felt a special measure of love on Christmas Eve for the sister with whom I shared a room. Oh we may have argued on other days but never ever on Christmas Eve. We were giddy with excitement and whispered across the space between our twin beds long after the lights went out. We'd tell each other that the sooner we went to sleep the sooner it would be morning. And somehow, in spite of ourselves, we would sleep.
I remember waking while it was still dark. My older sister would come into our room and the three of us would creep not so quietly into our brother's room to wait for the street lights to go out. It felt like hours and it may have been. We weren't allowed to wake our parents if the street lights were still on.
My mother took such care in wrapping our gifts and she still ties beautiful bows. We each had our special places in the living room and knew right where to look for our stockings which were, and still are, our favorite part of the day. Once those were finished we'd have a big breakfast before opening other gifts. The morning seemed to stretch on forever.
I don't remember my parents using Santa as a means of keeping us in line. He was more the jolly character who came quietly in the night and left happy childhood memories in his wake. While there are one or two gifts that stand out, the thing that bubbles to the surface of my heart when Christmas comes round is the sense of belonging to a family who loved me unconditionally.
I'm fairly certain a metaphor could be inserted here.
We've carried on similar traditions with our own girls at Christmas. One year hubs had taken the girls to the mall for some last minute shopping. We knew Daughter1 no longer believed in Santa (these thoughts are never said aloud) but Daughter2 had nary a doubt. A reporter from the local newspaper was there and he stopped them for an interview. He asked Daughter2, 'How does Santa get all those presents down your chimney and into your house?" Hubs could not believe his ears. Was this reporter going to ruin Santa for Daughter2 just days before Christmas? She was considering his question for a moment when out of nowhere Daughter1 piped up and said, 'Well, he climbs up on the rooftop and....and...he just does...it's really kind of magical." Problem solved. By a ten year old.
I found a few pictures from that long ago December day. I'm linking them for today's
photo challenge since the prompt is '
Santa Claus'. Daughter2
needed to talk to Santa and Daughter1 went along with it in the name of sisterhood and make believe.
Christmas, 1998
Daughter1 is perfecting that thing tweens do with their eyes that parents dislike. She is sitting quietly but inside she is shouting-Do NOT take my picture with Santa! I'm too grown up for this.
Santa doesn't think so...
He asks Daughter1 what she wants for Christmas while Daughter2 tries to calm her nerves and remember her list. (Daughter2 always always has a list.)
She succeeds.
I love this Santa...he takes his job seriously.
And I love these big little girls, who at ages 8 and 10, loved Christmas and Santa and each other. They had imaginations as big as the sky and it was there they tucked Santa once Christmas Day had passed. These big little girls loved Jesus too. Still do. He lives not in their imaginations, but deep in their hearts...on Christmas and everyday after.
"While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them." Luke 2:6-7
