When did you stop believing in Santa Claus?
A few nights ago, my husband and I hunkered down on the couch to watch The Polar Express. He'd had a long week of work and I was still trying to get some sympathy for being siiiiiick. The Polar Express has become one of my favorites simply because it reminds me to always believe in the magic of Christmas.
My parents did an amazing job of fostering my belief in Santa. Sometimes Santa came while we were at Christmas Eve Mass or at Christmas Eve parties, and his visit to our house while I was with my parents clearly meant that they couldn't be Santa, so Santa must exist. Santa also brought presents very quietly, like the time he moved an entire desk into my bedroom and wrapped it with Christmas lights. I've always been a light sleeper, so the fact that I didn't wake up indicated that some sort of Santa magic had been used (I still have no idea how they did that, and they don't remember doing it either...). And Santa often left evidence of his visit behind - a piece of his beard on the fireplace, footprints on the carpet, bells from his sleigh. There was always a little something to encourage my belief in Santa Claus.
I don't remember exactly when I stopped believing in Santa. I remember doubting for a while, and I remember asking my parents if Santa was real. They told me that Santa was based on Saint Nicholas and St. Nick had been real. They never confirmed or denied whether Santa existed, but I knew from their explanation that Santa wasn't real.
Even after I stopped believing in Santa, Santa continued to visit my house because I had younger sisters who believed. I think Santa's continued presence helped me through the tween and early teen years when so many of my friends lost their inner child and became cynical and self-centered. They didn't have to suspend reality and believe in Christmas magic and so they didn't. I continued to pretend to believe, for the sake of my sisters, and it made Christmas fun and helped me hold onto the childlike belief. But because I didn't give in to the cynicism, I was able to witness all the amazing things that were happening around me.
And then I started to believe again.
Oh, I know Santa isn't real. I believe in the spirit of Santa and the spirit of Saint Nicholas. I believe that God gave us Jesus as a sign of unconditional love, that St. Nick emulated this act through his own form of giving, and that Santa represents yet another form of this generosity in a way that is accessible and understandable and imitable. I believe in unselfishness, kindness, and charity. I believe that dreams can come true and miracles can happen. And I think that these miracles happen because ordinary people become filled with the spirit of Santa Claus, and realize that they too can be generous and kind and charitable and loving.
Of course I believe in Santa Claus.
Anyway, I turned to my husband during the movie and asked him when he stopped believing in Santa. He responded seriously, "Stopped? Why would I stop believing in Santa?"
Just another reason my husband and I are perfect for each other.
I have been talking a lot about this with others. When we stopped believing, why, and if we "really" have stopped believing in good ol St. Nick in our houses or if the tradition lives on! I've talked a lot about how mom and dad were sooo good at it, and how some things still seem unexplainable. Chris's youngest cousin just stopped believing as well, which has made me think about how sad it is for a child that doesn't believe, and how we have to make sure they believe in the spirit and the real meaning of Santa!
ReplyDelete