Is there a fat guy in a red suit hanging out with reindeer and elves at the North Pole, squeezing down chimneys and smoking his pipe in people’s living rooms? I’ll grant you, probably not. But I firmly believe in all the wonder and magic and charity that Santa embodies. There is something special about Christmastime that is hard to put into words. It has to do with divine love and the incarnation of God into the form of a tiny Jewish baby.
I admit that every Christmas morning, a small part of me wonders if there will be a surprise by the tree that wasn’t there when I went to bed the night before. Some token left by a guy in a sleigh. Every year I wake up to squeals of joy from my children and come downstairs and find that everything is as I left it the night before. But somehow I find that I’m not disappointed by this. I may have bought the gifts and stuffed the stockings myself, but all of these things become transformed in the night. By the time the kids wake up, the magic has happened. Santa has come.
Merry Christmas!!!!!!!!!
so true so true - I love it. It has been a fun few days and we still have more than a week off!
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