Jesus, Santa Claus, and Believing

Does Santa Claus distract from the Christmas spirit, or add to it? For me, Jesus, Santa Claus and believing go hand in hand. From Santa, I learned the importance of believing in the power of kindness and love. It opened my heart to the gifts of love and kindness offered by our Savior Jesus Christ. Believing in His love brings healing to broken hearts. Believing helps us hold on to the life-giving hope so desperately needed in this world.

Here’s my childhood story of how Santa Claus and believing brought me to Jesus:

A Small Celebration

Christmas at our house wasn’t like the ones you see on TV. No snow covered the ground, and the air outside was heavy and damp. Only a few lights decorated the small, cinderblock houses up and down the street. Our gray, unpainted house looked especially bleak in the fog that came and went during the Christmas season. 

Dad hated Christmas. He didn’t like the decorations, the music, or having to buy gifts.   What he didn’t like even more was the attention that not having a Christmas brought to my sisters and me at school, so he reluctantly agreed to the smallest of celebrations.

On most Christmas Eves, Dad went out with his friends, while my sisters and I helped Mom put a few shiny ornaments on our small silver aluminum tree. We fell asleep to Christmas songs playing on our record player.  The music filled my mind with thoughts of pretty trees and snow. Peace danced into dreams of “silver bells” and “city sidewalks dressed in holiday style.” 

Christmas morning, the sun peeked through the tattered shade on the window. I was usually the first one awake and carefully climbed out of bed so as not to wake my sisters. The tree always looked much the same as the night before. No smells of a holiday feast filled the air, but the stockings sitting on the floor bulged with oranges, apples and nuts. Santa didn’t forget us.

I was never sure why some kids at school got more from Santa than others, and honestly I wondered how he could be real at all. But I loved the idea of a kind old man just wanting to be nice to children everywhere. It kind of relieved some of the sadness in my heart.

Is Santa Claus Real?

When I was in second grade, there was a lot of talk about Santa Claus being a fairy tale. But one girl was confident that he was real. She said love and kindness make anything possible. Hope tickled my insides. I wanted to believe her words. What if Santa could do anything? I did wonder why some kids got skates and games and puzzles while others only fruit and nuts in a stocking. Maybe I just needed to be more committed to the whole idea of Santa to really get his attention. I decided to put it to the test and find out for myself. I would ask Santa for a present.

One Saturday morning I leaned over the back of the couch and gazed out the window as neighborhood kids rode their bikes past my house. Santa crept back into my thoughts. I could ask for a bicycle. A bicycle. It seemed outrageous, but on the other hand, if Santa could really make reindeer fly…

For the long weeks till Christmas, I did my best to be good. I didn’t tell anyone of my plan or even that I wanted a bicycle so badly. It felt better to hold dreams close to my heart just in case they did not come true. And this time I figured if no one else knew, the test would be more accurate.

Jesus

During the Thanksgiving break we needed food, so Mom took us to church. The teachers there talked a lot about the baby Jesus, angels, light, and love. Thoughts of Jesus seemed to lighten my heart. The teachers at church also talked about praying and the power of God. That night I prayed that Santa would bring me a bike. I prayed every night and even prayed to Santa just to cover my bases.

By December 23rd, doubts flooded my brain. What was I thinking? How could Santa be real? How could he know me when there were thousands of kids in the world? My test became about more than simply gifts; the reality of a Santa Claus opened all sorts of possibilities for good. I really wanted to believe. I needed to believe.

My prayer was a little bit different that night. I thought of the mean things I said and the candy bar I stole from the store. I had not been very nice to my sisters so I asked if Santa would bring them something too.

Christmas Eve day arrived, and the rain fell hard against the windows of our house. My sisters and I tried to pass the time by playing a game, but ended in a heated argument. Mom yelled at us all to go to our room. I flopped onto the bed in a somewhat numb state of despair. The day dragged on. 

By evening, the rain stopped. I was still in my room, reading a book and trying to forget the whole Santa Claus thing, when the doorbell buzzed.

I snuck into the hall (so not to irritate mom) and peeked around the corner. At the front door stood two younger men. They were in business-like suits, wearing Santa hats, and announced that they were Santa’s helpers. My heart jumped inside my chest. They talked to Mom about Jesus and love and the Season. Mom told them we didn’t have anything to give and closed the door.

Believing

My jumping heart fell flat, and I headed back to the bedroom. They didn’t look like Santa’s helpers anyway. I told myself. Who ever heard of elves that were that tall or wore business suits? And weren’t they supposed to have pointy ears or something?  Halfway down the hall, my sisters asked me what was going on. Just then we heard the doorbell again, and then the same voices. I turned and snuck back into the living room just as Mom reluctantly agreed to let Santa’s helpers come in.  They brought in several small packages, some candy canes, and a baby doll.  My sisters burst past me into the living room, eagerly grabbing the gifts.

The men stepped back out the door and then, in a moment that stopped time, wheeled in two shiny purple Sting-Ray bicycles. One for my older sister, and one for me. My feet didn’t touch the floor as I floated across the room and ran my fingers across the soft white banana-shaped seat. A warm tingle bubbled through me from the middle of my heart to the top of my head and clear out to my fingertips. Happy tears gave a shiny glow to the smiles on my sisters’ faces.

In that moment, my view of the world changed. Maybe everything was possible. So, did my Santa Claus experiment turn me away from the spirit of Christmas that centers on the birth of our Savior? No. My bicycle Christmas taught me that I was seen, heard, and cared about. Love and kindness are at the core of the Santa traditions and reflect the love and kindness of our Savior, Jesus Christ.  Believing in His love brings healing to broken hearts. Believing helps us hold on to the life-giving hope so desperately needed in this world.