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You Better Believe It
“Dad . . . Is Santa Claus real?”
The question came out of nowhere. Looking back, perhaps I should have expected it, but at the moment it was like being hit by a broadside volley of cannon-shot from out of a deep fog. It penetrated several decks of my consciousness and my heretofore smooth sailing holiday vessel lurched to a heavy stop. Somewhere deep in my mind I was barking orders to raise the mainsail and strike the jib for this was a “father-son moment” I was supposed to be ready for - but somehow I wasn’t. As far as I could tell, not a single thought was presently on deck.
I scrambled for time to think.
“Excuse me?” I replied, as I turned and looked down to face my then 6 year old son George. We were standing alone in the back of our church before the large stained glass window that arched halfway across the wall and almost all the way to the ceiling. The 11:00 AM service had been over for thirty minutes or so and we were alone. George had wanted to traverse back through the building and out the sanctuary so that we could look at the glass. I was glad he had – it was stunning in the morning light and the deep blues and reds seemed to punctuate the anticipation and spirit-filled joy of the Christmas season. But now I was caught in a moment I simply hadn’t expected. George rephrased the question.
“I mean is he really real Dad? You know – is there really a guy that goes to every house in the world on one night and comes down chimneys and leaves toys everywhere?”
There was nothing else to do. The storm was upon me. My first mate was home with our other children and I was going to have to ride this one out the best I could. It was time to pull on the rudder and hope for the best. So I did what every good Captain does when he has no idea what to say – I turned the question back to him. “I don’t know son, what do you think?”
George pondered my words a moment and then clearly and concisely said. “No, I don’t think he is Dad. I mean it just doesn’t make sense . . . How could he be real? I think Santa Claus is nothing more than a story . . .”
My ship was taking on water. I remembered my pledge to never lie to our children about ANYTHING. It would be the best way to establish and keep credibility when the tough days come and they need to know that they can count on what I tell them. But this was a six-year-old asking about Santa . . .
I remembered my own experience of being told that the “chimney Santa” didn’t exist. After getting the low down on it from Pop and pledging to never tell a soul, my older brother calmly and succinctly (and within the hour) spelled everything out for me. Like George, I already had my doubts, but I remember that it confirmed a key thought in my mind: “My parents might not tell me everything exactly as it was. Were there other things that needed clarifying? How about Jesus and God and that Holy Ghost guy? You can’t see them?” Doubt crept in from all sides. I remember having a lot of questions and I knew that some things that I had once counted on could no longer be trusted.
Now here it was some thirty years later and my son was looking up intently waiting on my reply. It was time to bring the ship around into the wind. I knew what I had to say. He was a little young, but he was ready.
“Personally I agree, I don’t think there is a guy that is able to come down every chimney in the world with a never ending sack of toys . . .” I paused and let the words sink in for a moment. I then added, “But make no mistake about it, Santa IS real . . . and to not believe in him is to miss out on much of what makes Christmas so special.”
“What do you mean Dad?” George asked intently.
The fog was lifting and I could see the enemy now – it was a dark vessel that appeared to be one shape and size one moment and then something else the next. It moved in and out of the lifting fog bank as brilliant shafts of light broke through here and there to illumine the rigging above. What cannons there had been were now shuttered away, and it seemed to be trying to tack away as fast as possible. The truth had it on the run.
“Son, Santa Claus might best be seen as that beautiful spirit that people take on when they want to gift something of themselves to another. Whether that’s in the form of presents they might make or buy at a store or something like volunteering to do work at the Rescue Mission, Santa Claus is a wonderfully timeless expression of the best of who we are when we seek to serve and bring joy to others. So you see, he really is quite real – and if I were you I’d keep on believing in him . . .”
George stared up at the glorious panels of glass - before him stood Christ resurrected and surrounded by angels. Trumpets blew and the Heavenly Hosts were present. The light coming through seemed especially bright now. The words near the bottom of the panel read, “King of kings and Lord of lords . . .”
After a few moments George gave his answer. “I believe I will,” he replied.
And so do I.
Merry Christmas dear reader – may His Truth bless you richly this season and throughout the New Year!
- Stuart