"Oh, Jesus!"

Somewhere buried deep in a small, jam- packed, albeit hyper-organized storage unit is about 90% of my Christmas decorations, including a painted wooden door hanger with a picture of good ‘ol St. Nick that reads: “I believe.” I wanted to clear this up, because if you came to my house today (not that you would, because no-one is invited to my house right now; no offense but people are messy and you never know when a realtor is going to call and a realtor, Lord willing, IS going to call) but, if you did come to my house, you would find very little evidence of Santa; just a single elf, Jolly Sparkle, (who makes nightly trips to the North Pole to update Santa on behaviors---genius!) and a few assorted drawings from school.


Of course, we do have a few Christmas decorations. We have a beautiful tree (humbly speaking, of course) and some greens; we have a plastic Little People nativity and a library of Christmas books that would rival a bookstore. But, I have to be honest in saying that I miss all my little Santas, because in this house, “we believe.” We believe in Jesus. We believe in Santa.

Since becoming a parent, I must admit, I’ve started questioning my Santa traditions because I have a handful of friends and family that don’t “do” Santa. Mostly it’s in an effort keep the focus of Christmas on the birth of our Savior, while some don’t like the idea of lying to their children. But as a child who believed in Santa and now as a Mother who believes, I can say assuredly that my eyes are always on Jesus and the celebration of His birth.

And as for the lying, well, I do that all the time. I tell them it’s bedtime when it’s not even close. I tell them the cookies are all gone when there’s just one left for me. I tell them their drawing looks nice when, well….ya know. And for the record, I don’t really consider believing in Santa lying, because after reading the Christmas story from the book of Luke and ‘Twas the Night before Christmas, my children will go to bed leaving the living room empty and lonely, save for a few cookies on a platter and a large glass of sour milk, and during the night it will be transformed, as if by magic, into a room full of toys; full of laughter; full of joy. Santa will come to those who believe.

Now, at the risk of offending yet even more of you, I will go a little further and say that just as I don’t understand the campaign against Santa, I also don’t understand the “donation gift.” I used to have one student that every year would make a donation in my name. That’s not a gift; it’s a tax write-off. If you want to make a donation, great; just don’t try to convince me that it’s a gift. Maybe this is politically incorrect, but I like receiving gifts and I like giving gifts. I’m not going to draw names; I’m not going to pool all our money and try to save the rain forest. I’m going to buy you a gift and we can focus on the planet in January. I love the abundance of Christmas. I love going overboard. I love that we have a chance to stop and honor each other with our gifts just as the wise men sought to honor the baby Jesus (although, now I’m not really sure he was still a baby by the time the wise men came. I don’t want to squash all your traditions and beliefs but I’m fairly certain I heard a sermon on this and he was probably around two and just to further mess with your head, he wasn’t born in December and it probably wasn’t all that cold.) All I’m saying is that Santa isn’t the only pagan part of our traditions and celebrations.

Yesterday I was cleaning the kitchen (not completely sure how it got dirty considering my no visitors and no cooking policy) when out of the blue I heard Emma Claire yell, “Oh JESUS!” I spun around so fast, ready to completely freak out and accuse someone of teaching my precious baby such terrible language.When I looked closer I saw her holding and playing with Mary and the baby Jesus from that little plastic nativity. Emma Claire was playing the role of Mary who was comforting a crying baby, “Oh Jesus.”

My children know why Santa comes. They know that this is about Jesus’ birthday. They know that the wise men brought gifts and that’s why we buy for one another. They don’t understand the true miracle of Christmas; I mean how can a child truly grasp the concept of a virgin birth. Quite frankly, I don’t want them to understand, because I sure as heck don’t want them to understand the opposite of a virgin birth. Conceived by the Holy Spirit. That’s a miracle; that’s the majesty of God; that’s what we are called to believe with a child-like faith. For us, Santa Clause is about nurturing and celebrating God’s gift of a child-like faith. Do we over-do Christmas? Probably, but I can’t think of a more deserving reason than the birth of a Savior.

Now, if somebody could just find me a nativity with a toddler Jesus, I’d feel a whole lot better!