I remember when I was a kid and Santa was real. He came to my house one time. He really did. My dad got some guy to dress up as Santa and he came over. So did his wife, Mrs. Claus. My sister and I were delightfully stunned. Did Santa go to every child’s house like this? What was going on here?
My parents would also leave cookies for Santa by the chimney and each year Santa took a few nibbles when he dropped off our presents. I also recall sitting on Santa’s lap at the local mall, where he would give me a Dum-Dum and ask if I’ve been a good boy (My Mom was always relieved when this was over). Heck, I even recall an elementary classmate who talked about Santa being real with such convincing passion. He said he saw him swooping through his backyard on the sleigh.
All that to say, the facts were lining up. Santa came to my house, ate our cookies, and apparently was seen with Rudolph in my classmate’s backyard. It was all beginning to make sense.
Plus, I believed in God and the Bible as a child too. And in Sunday school they taught us these wild stories, like a guy getting swallowed by a whale and living through it, and animals gathering on an ark because the earth flooded. There were also a whole bunch of crazy stories about Jesus — walking on water, feeding thousands of people, and even rising from the dead. He was Jesus/Superman.
These crazy Bible stories had trained me to grasp the unthinkable. Therefore, since God and the incredible stories of the Bible were all true, then Santa’s exploits must be too! How else would the logic of my elementary school mind track with all of this?
Then came that daunting day. Santa’s not real! That’s what they said. Potty-mouthed classmates reeked of the awful news and I then asked Mom if she could verify the despicable, alleged rumor. With tenderness and grace, she revealed/consoled my curious heart. Santa’s not real, Mom said. And Mom never lies. What about the people who came to our house? They were disguised family friends, Mom informed. What?! You tricked me like that?! Mom!!! So what are you going to tell me now, that Dad’s been eating the cookies all these years?! Yes, it was just for fun while you were young, honey. But what about Mikey (my elementary school classmate’s name) seeing Santa on a sleigh, Mom?! Honey, I’m sorry (She apparently doesn’t respond to such inane queries).
Santa disappeared just like that. He melted faster than a snowman in the Sahara. It was just a big Christmas ploy to get kids like me excited. And suddenly Santa was gone and the best thing I could now do with him is not tell my younger cousins that’s he fake.
Anyways, back to God. Sooo, if Santa is a ploy, what does that make God? I mean, Santa dropping presents through a chimney is wild, but God is much wilder. Those Sunday school stories are insane! God can’t be real if Santa isn’t. But Mom said He was! And so did Dad! And Dad never lies either. Thus, the facts were lining up in God’s favor. But what was the catch to this? How did Santa come toppling down so quickly while God kept standing?
Faith, in the mind of a 6-year old, suddenly became an insecure thought. Faith in Santa, faith in God, and faith that Michael Jordan would lead the Bulls to another championship were what I held to. And suddenly, two of the three remained while I would never look at Santa the same.
Now comes the point where I have to wrap up this blog with some profound message. It’s time to connect the dots and make you say, “Ahhh, so that’s where he’s been going this whole time.” Welp, I got nothing. These are just my random God and Santa Claus thoughts that I’ve been waiting to get out for years. It feels so good to release them.
At the end of the day, let’s just thank God He’s real and delight in the gift of Jesus Christ’s birth, a holiday we celebrate but a meaning that’s so often hazy. The way children are indoctrinated to the holiday season is quite comical if you take a step back and examine it, especially when you picture the logic of an analytical 6-year old like me.