Hello Everyone,
They say there are 4 stages of believing in Santa Clause.
Stage 1. You believe there is a Santa Claus
Stage 2. You don’t believe in Santa Claus
Stage 3. You are Santa Claus
Stage 4. You look like Santa Claus
Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to believe in Santa. I loved the idea that there was someone out there that would give kids what they wanted at one time of the year. Even though our Christmas expectations were never high, just to get one thing that we had asked for was all we wanted. All 5 of us usually got one gift that we had wanted.
As I grew up I had little inklings that maybe Santa was not real, but I chose to believe in him. One year my dad was asked to be a Santa at the local grocery store. Well, that was interesting because my dad did not like kids and he did not have a beard. I remember my mother loaded us up in the car and we brought some of the neighbor kids with us to go see Santa at the local grocery store.
Well, I looked at Santa and was devastated because no one could fool me. THAT WAS MY DAD! And to add insult to injury one of the neighbor kids turned to me and said, “Santa looks a lot like your daddy” I was humiliated, dejected and wanted to go crawl in the refrigerator of the supermarket.
Fortunately, I got over it, but I never got over my love for Santa. I loved the fun he brought into the Christmas season. My dad was playing Santa to get money to buy us Christmas presents. Even so, my mother and dad said they knew it was going to be a very lean Christmas because we had a baby sister come home from the hospital who was very sick and they were buying lots of medicine at the local drug store.
When my mom and dad would go into the pharmacy for medicine for her there was a contest going on for someone to win a cardboard dollhouse with 3 dolls in it. Just the right amount of dolls for the 3 of us who were old enough for dolls. The drawing was to be on Christmas Eve. I noticed my dad was a little antsy on Christmas Eve that year. However, for my dad to be antsy was no new occurrence in our home.😊
Then in the later afternoon our telephone rang. My dad sprang to his feet and answered anxiously. And then his anxiety turned to excitement. And all of a sudden he was in a good mood and grabbed my hand and said, “Come on Debbie, you’re going with me.” I had no idea what had made him turn from sullen to happy, but I anticipated wherever we were going would feel like a really happy place.
And yes, we had won that dollhouse and we were bringing those babies home. My sisters and I were going to get dolls for Christmas just like we had wanted. I knew the pharmacist had probably rigged the whole thing because he knew of the financial hardships my mom and dad had been facing. It was at that time I realized there was really no jolly old St. Nick. But I knew my mom and dad had been praying for help, and God sent it to them in a very creative way.
But as I grew older, I began to love and appreciate the true meaning of Christmas. I realized how the frivolous songs of Christmas I tired of very early in the season. But when I listened to the theology in the Christmas carols of old I realized the meanings of the carols were what I could use all through the year. Their rich theology gave me some new thought each time I pondered them.
And so as I celebrate this Christmas with all the fun and festivities of the season, I am humbled at what the Lord has given to me all year long. I am humbled that he would come to earth and live a life of rejection from so many, yet He loves them. He would live a life of one minute people loving Him and the next they were ready to crucify Him. Yet, He asked the Father to forgive them for they did not know what they were doing to Him. If only I were more like him.
May God give you the best Christmas ever as you celebrate the best gift ever given.
This Christmas leaves me with one thing to say–I love you Jesus and thank you for this wonderful community of friends and customers you’ve blessed Memories of Home and The Added Touch to know and love.
Blessings!
Debbie
Leave A Comment