Santa's Magic

Let me begin by saying, Patrick (my younger brother) and I were those geeky kids who pledged their loyalty to Santa long after they knew in their heart of hearts that he had a bit of help from Mom and Dad. Each year, we were completely swept up in the magic of Christmas. Right after Thanksgiving, we would faithfully write our letters to the North Pole all the while defending Santa's good name to the know-it-all 6th graders by confidently pointing out the famous "Yes, Virgina There is a Santa Claus" entry in the encyclopedia. On Christmas Eve, we struggled not to burst with sheer excitement and joy as we wiled away the hours until time for bed. After dark, we'd turn on the radio to hear the Norad Santa tracker update us on the jolly old man's whereabouts. And finally, before heading up to bed, we'd carefully put out cookies and milk for Santa and veggies for the reindeer. No fear of us trying to spy on Santa. We knew good and well that kids who sneak down to get a peek only got coal in their stockings!

Christmas mornings were always full of more presents that we could ever imagine. We'd rush down the stairs after waking Mom and Dad. It was always such fun to see if Santa had eaten all of his cookies. Usually, he could only manage a bite or two and a sip of milk. Patrick and I would nod our heads knowingly. Santa must've been stuffed--after all, he had eaten millions of cookies by the time he came to the Englert household.

There's nothing quite like those wonder-filled days of Christmas past. As much as we often try as adults to recreate the magic, it's never quite the same.

This morning, we decided to take Lucy for her first visit to see jolly old St. Nick. Of course by the time we got to the mall, the queue of hyper kids and stressed moms was already forming. Mothers were frantically putting bows in hair, squeezing unwilling daughters into pantyhose, and cleaning off mouths all in preparation for the most important appointment of the year: those two minutes on Santa's lap.

I could feel my anxiety rising as Lucy happily looked around taking in the sights, smells (a Great American Cookie Company kiosk next Santa's house=marketing genius), and sounds. Just a bit longer I kept silently chanting, my fingers crossed that she'd be smiling once we got to the front of the queue.

And then, my anxiety melted away as I glimpsed one particulary cherubic little boy sitting on Santa's lap. This little towhead, dressed in his Sunday best, peered up at Santa in wide-eyed adoration. Though I couldn't hear their conversation, as Santa spoke to him, the little boy snuggled closer and laid his little head on Santa's shoulder. My eyes filled with tears. Just for a fleeting moment, it was Christmas Eve. Patrick and I were cuddled on the couch, taking one last look at the Sears' Wish Book, dreaming of morning.

Of course, I quickly regained my composure. Before I knew it, it was Lucy's turn to sit on old Chris Cringle's knee. All fear I had of her crying vanished as soon as Santa took her into his arms. "How old is she," Santa asked as Lucy looked around, wide-eyed. "She's four months," I replied. "That's just great. What a special Christmas this will be with your precious Lucy," he said. "You have a very Merry Christmas."

Thanks, Santa. Merry Christmas to you too!

--Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.-http://www.newseum.org/yesvirginia/