How I Came to Believe In Santa
Posted by DaMomma
December 7, 2007
It has become fashionable for parents not to encourage their children’s belief in Santa. Call me hip, call me cutting edge: I grew up not Believing.
That Grand Man was literal and honest with us about everything, and felt that Santa was a cruel joke to play on kids. I was in my teens before I realized there were people who actually Believed in Santa.
I wrote a paper for a college theology class in which I argued that God existed because people believed in him. I called it, “Yes Virginia, there is a God.” I got an A.
I grew up literal and honest about everything.
“Don’t you feel badly tricking them?” I asked Emily when Mary was finally old enough that some sort of Santa Policy had to be made. Cute Husband desperately wanted her to Believe and I was asking mothers I respected for advice.
“Oh, I think if I felt like I were tricking them I would feel badly,” Emily said.
“Yeah, but, you’re telling them a fat guy in a red suit pops down their chimney and drops off a bunch of presents. I mean. Come on.”
“Here’s the thing –” she said. “After it’s all done, after I’ve wrapped everything, set it up and I stand there looking at it before I stagger to bed … I Believe.”
Right, she’s Believing away while she’s chomping on cookies her kids made for the fat guy.
I totally understand how my Jewish friends shake their heads in perplexity at the tradition of buying piles of presents for kids and pretending someone else — some stranger with an eating disorder and a questionable relationship with elves — brought them down the chimney.
The Hanukah tradition is so much more sensible: Family. Brings presents. Happy Hanukah.
And then one Christmas my friend Angela told me a story of when she was an elementary school teacher in Stafford, Virginia. Every Christmas Angela and her co-workers identified families who might be having trouble making Christmas happen. The teachers pooled their money and helped to buy presents the kids.
Angela was coming down the hallway on the last day of school when she found a little girl crying on the steps.
“Santa’s not coming to our house this year,” she said. “My mother says it’s because we don’t have money, but I know it’s because I wasn’t a good girl.”
The little girl wasn’t one of the children Angela and her friends had identified, but her situation turned out to easily be the worst. The girl and her brother, mother and grandmother were struggling to survive, much less have Christmas.
Angela called her husband, a Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant stationed in Okinawa, Japan.
“I feel so bad,” she told him. “What do we do?”
“Get the family’s name and address,” he told her. “And the ages of everyone in the house. I’ll see what I can do.”
From Japan, Angela’s husband called back to the Marine Corps base at Quantico. The following afternoon, Christmas Eve day, the little girl from Angela’s school was playing in her house when there was a knock at the door. Her mother opened it to find two young Marines in dress blue uniform.
While her mother stared in astonishment, the Marines began to move boxes of things into the house — food, gifts for everyone, and a tree.
The 20 year-old Corporal — stationed away from his own family (he would have dinner at Angela’s the following night) — stopped to speak to the little girl.
“Santa was worried he might not make it to your house this year,” he said. “So he called in the Marines and asked us to help out. He said to tell you you were a very good little girl and he was proud of you.”
“That’s Santa,” Angela said simply. How could anyone not Believe after that?
“Okay, girls, pick something awesome. Pick something great,” I say at the mall toy store. We’ve done it every year, even years when we couldn’t buy anything for our own children and had to rely on family to do it for us.
Because even in those years, we knew we had it good.
“It has to be good,” I say. Something you really want for yourself — something that will hurt a little to give up. Mare chooses an exquisitely-dressed ballerina Barbie. Renny, a Dora doll. I pay and walk them over to the Marine in dress blues at the Toys for Tots table.
“Okay. Please give them to the Lance Corporal.”
They turn them over — Renny a little less than graciously. But it’s Mare who really hesitates as she passes that ballerina doll over the counter.
“You help Santa, right?” Mare asks, dark blue gaze fixed on the young Lance Corporal.
“Sure do,” he says, eyes flickering to me. I nod.
“Will you tell the girl who gets this: ‘Merry Christmas from Mary?’ — And I hope she has a good Christmas and that I am sorry her family doesn’t have enough money?”
“Baby,” I say before he can answer. “He can’t do that. Santa will give this to parents who can’t afford gifts for their children, and they will give it to their little girl. It’s not from you. It’s from Santa.”
You have to give it up for zero reward. You can think of that girl in your heart, but you can’t ever ask her to thank you. After all, you didn’t really do anything except grow up privileged enough to be able to do this.
I never say “Him” when I talk about Santa. I don’t answer questions about sleighs or reindeer — I read the girls the stories not as literal truths, but as allegories of the magic that really does exist.
I get what Emily meant.
Christmas Eve when it’s all done and I look at the lights and the quiet peace of joy and comfort we can provide, I will truly in my heart Believe. When my kids squeal and open presents in the predawn living room I’ll be thinking of that Dora doll and the ballerina, and hoping those kids Believe, too.
Oh, thank you, Thank You, THANK YOU for posting this again. This is so lovely, and I’ve wanted to point some folks with young children to it. And older children. And people without children.
Visiting your site is a treat, like having tea (or a latte) with a friend who always has good stories and never judges and makes me laugh. I hope you are enjoying the season with your family (and without the flying rodent). Merry, merry.
This is one of my favorite posts. I look forward to it every year and I am trying to figure out how to share it with my girls (one is Ren’s age and the other is 3 days older than Eden). We have traveled along with you on your ups and downs and even though we have never met, feel like you are my friend. Happy Holidays!
This makes me bawl every.single.year. Amazing story. Thanks for always reminding me what it’s really all about.
I remember this from when you first posted it. Still amazingly powerful. Thank you.
This is my very favorite of your posts — and I have a lot of favorites. Thank you for reposting it.
Love from Conrad and me to you and yours.
This one gets me every time. Thank you!
This one always gets me. Merry Christmas DaMomma & family
That was amazing! My co-workers are going to wonder why I’m sitting here sobbing. Our office coordinates the Toys for Tots drive in our area with the Marines, but your post makes it seem so much more real and personal. Thank you for posting it again this year.
I remember reading that when you first posted it and being so touched. This time around it was no different. It totally brings tears to my eyes. What a wonderful reminder about the spirit of Santa! Merry Christmas to you.
A beautiful post. Love the Marine Corps and love Santa.
Thank you for posting this again. I read it and cry each time. Regardless of where it comes from, I think everyone needs a little magic in their lives, needs a little Santa. Merry Christmas to you and your family.
3 years later this post still brings tears to my eyes when I read it. Thank you Da Momma!
Thank you so much for reposting this even though ONCE AGAIN I have to fix my mascara…..
This is a very tough subject for to right now because Bella is almost 5 and I am trying to not have her play into the whole “Santa is a real man who breaks into our house one night a year and drops off gifts” idea, so I don’t refer to him as a man.
I want her to think that Santa represents the magic of the season, of giving with love and not wanting anything in return (though how to explain the whole cookie addiction…)
I want her to believe in magic because magic is the glue that binds all the wonderful things that can be in this world together. I want her to believe in fairies and pixie dust and sparkly unicorns and to be kind and generous and to think of others because not all of us gets to experience that magic. I want her to keep the Santa magic in her heart ALL year because EVERYDAY someone needs to have a little help.
So, when we go out we pick up a toy here and a toy there for the Tots and at the grocery store we add extra cans of food for the pantry I say its to make some magic for someone who may not have enough of it themselves.
And while I don’t think she gets the concept…at least she is starting to get the flavor.
thank you for these beautiful thoughts – brought tears to my eyes – I too Believe, and always have, and hope my children will also keep that Belief even when they are “grown up” – because really, when we are believing in Santa, we are believing in the magic of Christmas, and the real meaning of thie joyous season – thank you not only for todays thoughts, but for all of your words – I love reading you!!
DAMMIT Liz, this post makes me cry ever year.
Thank you so much for your writing. I can never express as eloquently as you do how much your writing means to me. You inspire me to be a better person and a better mother.
Thank you.
For a third year in a row I am in tears. I know I need a reminder every year that I believe. Maybe not in a man in a red suit but in the magic of the season and the kindness it brings out of all of us. Thank you for reposting this.
I’m glad you were able to resolve the “Santa question”. It’s has bothered me for a while and I finally came up with our own solution thanks to a friends suggestion. As Christians, we focus on the Christ child at Christmastime, but Santa is a little hard to ignore in our society. So, we celebrate St. Nicholas Day as a nod to the real Santa Claus. On the night before December 6th, we put stockings under our windows, read a book about the real St. Nicholas, talk about why we give gifts and how there are those who cannot give gifts because they are not as blessed as us. The next morning, we find something warm to wear, something good to eat wrapped in gold (usually gold foil wrapped chocolates) and toys for the children made of wood in our stockings. As my children get older, they will be part of the process of filling the stockings for each other and us to further convey these gifts are not from Santa, but an expression of our love to each other. Then, we make gingerbread, share it with neighbors and give to a stranger (usually something like Toys for Tots). It perfectly ties with the charity we should express at this time, acknowledges our own gratitude for the provision we have, and a legend of a guy dressed in red.
Liz,
I grew up as Jewish as they come and now that I am married to someone who celebrates Christmas, we celebrate it with our children too. I orchestrate the decorating, the tree, the lights -everything–and I love it all. I love Christmas music and always did. I never had this as a kid and allow my kids to enjoy this part of the holidays and explain everything about both holidays the best I can.
After I have put the presents under the tree, look at the lights and stand back, eating my cookies – I Believe too. It is a great feeling. When my 9 year old asks me if I Believe in Santa, I tell her Yes, I believe in His magic and that it brings a wonder to the season. That’s what it is all about, right? It’s a special time of year, no matter what you believe.
I remember that post and…darn it…..I always cry when the Marine tells the little girl that the gifts are from Santa and that Santa says that she was a very good little girl and that he is proud of her. That’s the gift right there! Nothing is more important for children then having it affirmed that they are at their core….good……and that someone is proud of them. Thanks for posting it again! Sniff, sniff.
Excellent. I really really love this:
You have to give it up for zero reward. You can think of that girl in your heart, but you can’t ever ask her to thank you. After all, you didn’t really do anything except grow up privileged enough to be able to do this.
What a good feeling that post gives me. A little magic in a cold world. I am inspired to make a trip to the toy store with my son our new family Christmas tradition.
really, you need to give your regular readers a warning before you publish this. gets.me.every.time.
That is two years in a row you have made me cry with that story !
. Always hits right where it should though. You are such a talented writer and great mother Liz.
I cry every year with this story. And I think of what you said every year when I take my kids to pick out something for a child they’ll never know. Thank you Liz!
What a truly wonderful post. You know I believe that as a race, we have to belief in something, even if we know its ridiculous. It makes it all so magical and when our children have grown and fled the nest, well, Christmas just isn’t the same any more without that lovely rotund guy calling……..
Thanks for reposting, it was like catching up with an old friend. And it made me cry and I could not tell the kids why!
I’ve always struggled with the Santa thing. We were told that our parents had to pay santa fpr the gifts.
crying again. beautiful. Thank you.
and merry Christmas!