Source: Red Frog Photography, UK
I was six when my parents told me there was no Santa Claus. My reaction, according to my mom, was:
“You guys finally know? Heck, I’ve known for a long time, but I didn’t think you did, and I didn’t want to spoil it for you!”
If it’s any consolation, there are lots of Christmas traditions that actually are true. Like the one about St. Nicholas, renowned for his kindness to the poor and to orphans — but who didn’t own any reindeer, because they were just too hard to find in ancient Greece. Or the one about showing our love with presents and, even better, our presence, at Christmas time. Or the one about that guy Christmas is actually named after. You know, that guy.
So, merry him! And merry us! Merry family and merry friends. Merry anyone who needs us — and merry anything and everything that points us back to them. Heck, even that guy who doesn’t really exist, you know…
Santa Claus!
Very nice 😊
The mystery which Santa Claus brought to my childhood Christmas’s, and the deep longing for his presence to come, and his gifts which were free, still ring out happiness and joy in my adult eyes wide open celebration of the birth of my Risen King.
I suppose this is why to me the memory slot filled with the anticipation and excitement of Santa’s arrival, is so very comfortable residing next to my memories of Silent Night and Hark the Herald Angels Sing, and all the other warm and comforting praises I unknowingly gave to my Savior.
I am so very grateful the Lord used what I understood in my childhood, the myth of a generous gift provided by Santa Claus, to lay the foundation of a more than generous priceless gift of grace of which the angels sing.
So I have held onto believing in Santa even in my unbelief. I suppose because he is an idea of goodwill towards others to me, something shiny, frosting on a happy birthday.
But I do understand for some the knowing of the game behind the gifts is what gives the season a special place. My youngest son was over the moon to participate in the gift giving rather than the receiving also at a very tender age. His excitement of participation of others opening their gifts he helped wrap and put under the tree, is also a special memory which holds a locked in slot next to Santa’s.
I am rambling in your comments 🤭
Merry Christmas Mitch
And a delightful bit of rambling it is, Fred. (P.S. Do you go by “Fred” or something else?)
Belinda, and thank you 😊
Aha, happy to know your name, Belinda.
That fits me to a tee, as well.
Merry Christmas, Saint Nicholas, Sinter Klaas, Santa Claus–and you!
Aw, thanks, Christopher, and a Merry Christmas to you!
🤣😁
A very Merry Christmas to you and yours MItch. Thank you for making my mornings (and sometimes evenings) enjoyable!
My pleasure, Gregory. And I enjoy your site as well, my friend.
There’s no Santa Claus, Mitch? I don’t believe you! I believe in Santa and reindeer and a flying sleigh. Magic is one of the best parts of Christmas. I refuse to grow up!
Perfect. There are too many grownups in the world, Joanne!
We visited St. Nicholas’ place of birth in Turkey. The Muslim locals have fun with it by having red coated Santa Claus’ in most of the shops! Maggie
How cool, Maggie!
In my younger days I hoped Santa would have a son and that I would meet him and one day when Santa and the Mrs retired I would be the new Mrs Claus. LOL Anyway Merry Christmas to you and yours.
Thank you, and a Merry Christmas to you and yours as well, Rasma!
Classic, Mitch. 🤣🤣
Thanks, Sandy. ;>)
I found out early on after catching my parents assembling toys to put under the tree. I refused to believe it for a few days, telling my young self that they were helping Santa. I carried on the charade for more years for my younger sister, then she caught them too and the jig was up.
;>)
😂
My parents told me when I was about four!
I’m on a roll now, since my comment showed up! The last four times I tried to comment on your blog, it didn’t.
Arrgh! What happened the previous times, Ann?
Merry anyone who needs us — and merry anything and everything that points us back to them. ❤️
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