I Believe in Santa Claus

Ever since I started teaching "second graders" years ago, someone comes into the classroom around mid-December and announces, "You know, Santa's not real, right?" Gone are the good old days of teaching first graders, who whole-heartedly believe and wait with bated breath while I recite T'was the Night Before Christmas. In fact, one year my school secretary (the world's BEST school secretary, but that's another story) busted into my first grade classroom wearing oven mitts and bearing an ice-encrusted scroll tied with a red ribbon. "It's from SANTA!" one kid exclaimed, and they all jumped into my lap (smaller class sizes back then) as I unrolled it and read the curly red words to them about how they'd done a wonderful job on their Christmas program the night before. "I KNEW it was the real Santa!" they all chimed. Awww... I miss those days.

No, now I always have one little stinker who just really insists that we're all idiots and we need to come over to the dark side. I have come up with an excellent response, I think, which is that I believe, and, well, if Santa hears you saying that, he just doesn't bother coming to your house. Other kids say, "You believe in Santa, Mrs. Hall," and I always reply, "Of course I do. Don't you? I certainly wouldn't want word getting back to the big guy that I didn't!"

The thing is, I always actually have believed. When we put our tree up, in my own adult house, with my own children, and we hang our stockings, and we lay out little messages for Santa, I really do wait up to hear the sounds of hooves on the roof. I feel that magic. I was so completely sold as a kid, I don't think it's something I've ever let go. And, really, when you look around, when you see people who are stingy being generous, when you see adults who are naughty being nice, don't you believe, too?

My son, Ben, is almost 8 and, eventually, we're probably going to have to have a conversation. If you follow my posts, you know he is CRAZY about Christmas and Santa and the Elves. Yes, for those of you wondering, he STILL gets me up each night to search for the elves. Ahhh... it brings me such hope for the world he'll create some day. But, sometime, someone is going to REALLY get to him, and he's probably going to ask. He'll sit next to me on the couch, he'll put his not-so-little-anymore hand inside mine, and he'll say, "Mom, is Santa real?" and I've got just the response for him.

Yes, Benjamin, there is a Santa Claus. I've met him, in fact. His name was Farris Howrani and he was my middle and high school Sunday School teacher. He told us he prayed in the shower every day to wash away his guilt. He told beautiful stories of his four children, and sometimes even cried because he was so proud of them. One time, my dad complimented his tie, and he gave it to him, because that's the custom in his native culture. (My dad said, "Then I really like your wife!" Ha.) He oozed kindness and generosity and with all of our eye-rolling teenageness, we loved the man dearly.

You've met him, too, Ben. His name is JB, and he's our adopted grandfather/neighbor to the cabin. He is quiet and calm and kindhearted. He does things for us before we even think to need them done. He gives away everything he has, and says things like, "Take it; take it!" when your Poppy is pondering the last beer. When I'm with him, I feel safe and calm, too, and I know that, somehow, everything will work out, just because JB's there. And he calls Becca "Rebecca", like he's known her since before even we did.

Sissy and I knew him, his name was Tim Vigneau, but he liked to be called "Da" or "Doodah". Five minutes after you met him, you felt like he'd known you your whole life. He would do anything for anybody, and often did. He was my friends' dad, but he seemed ageless to me; maybe it was the Hawaiian shirts and the Jimmy Buffet and the way his laugh would fill a whole room. Maybe it was the crinkle of his eyes when he smiled. I always felt like one of HIS kids, which is how Santa would make everyone feel, don't you think?

I've met Mrs. Claus, too, Ben-Ben. She was my Grandma Hendricks, in fact! She was feisty and funny and full of passion for everyone she loved. And she loved just about everybody! Especially kids, Benny. She only had two sons, and just a few grandkids, but she would gather kids to her and take care of them like they were her family. She would laugh until she cried and play cards all night long. And she made books for us out of magazine clippings that made her think of us. Just another way she let us know she was thinking of us. I think Mrs. Claus thinks about the kids all year, just like Santa.

Then there was the Mrs. Claus whose name was Marion and she was the sister of some friends. She was funny and sweet and laughed a laugh that filled the room. Her smile took up her whole face, and made you feel like you'd just had a big, long drink of hot cocoa. She's gone to heaven, now, and I suppose they had to post for her position, but the good news is that our cousin Jackie is still available, and she fits the bill, too. She works with people who are sick, and makes them feel cared for and safe and happy. She loves babies and children and buys too many presents and gives hugs that you feel all the way down to your toes. Her eyes twinkle like starlight, and you know she's just got joy in her heart that's so full, it has to shine out through her eyes. 

As long as there were and are and continue to be people like this, Benjamin--and we both know there always will be--then, yes, there is a Santa Claus. His magic lives on in all the people around us, and, maybe, if we're lucky, someday through us, too.