"I believe..."

I've been meaning to write this for some time, so bear with me as a sort out all the thoughts I have racing through my head!

One of my most favourite Christmas films is "Miracle on 34th Street". I love it when the baddies reveal their "I believe" badges. I love it because it makes it perfectly plausible for grown-ups to believe whole-heartedly and unreservedly in Father Christmas and all he stands for. I would, for the record, like to stand on my Christmassy soap box and shout to the world... "I BELIEVE IN FATHER CHRISTMAS". Even after I was told, at the age of 11 that Father Christmas was not real, I still believed and held, desperately on to all the evidences I had...

• That note he wrote me in green pen, in elaborate, cursive handwriting, when I asked him to buy my wonderful parents 'jewels' from Argos (my class knows no bounds). He told me that "You and your sister are the greatest jewels your parents could have ever asked for"...
• That sooty Rudolph footprint from the [electric, I believe] fireplace at my Grandma's one Christmas morning. 
• How do you explain how those store Santas always managed to give me gifts I LOVED??

The reason for my desperate clutching was because I had not ever even wondered about Santa's authenticity. There were no questions in my mind. Not one. He was real, I wrote to him every year, he brought gifts, left a stocking on the end of my bed... He and I were tight. 

I remember the fateful day when my mother delivered the blow. I felt a little bit like my Christmasses would never, ever be the same. And I was right. (So far, you may feel that I am bolstering the view of the "Don't let your children believe because Santa's a LIE" camp. Wait, my friends. Wait). 

It took me a couple of years to get into a new Christmas groove. I enjoyed helping my parents with the stockings. I didn't even mind helping Rudolph eat his 'Smarties' (don't tell me about carrots. Rudolph always had Smarties in my house). It was fun. But there was one thing that never changed. Every year, on Christmas Eve night, I wrote my letter to Father Christmas- partly, I suppose, to keep things going for my younger sister, but mostly, to keep some of the magic alive for myself. It was this simple, personal tradition that transformed my Christmasses from "Father Christmas" oriented to "Christmas Spirit" oriented. 

"It is a glorious thing to have old St. Nicholas in our hearts and in our homes today, whether he enters the latter through the open door or creeps down the chimney on Christmas Eve. To bring happiness to others without seeking personal honor or praise by publishing it is a most commendable virtue. . . .

Good old St. Nicholas has long since gone the way of all mortals, but the joy he experienced in doing kindly deeds is now shared by millions who are learning that true happiness comes only by making others happy—the practical application of the Savior’s doctrine of losing one’s life to gain it. In short, the Christmas spirit is the Christ spirit, that makes our hearts glow in brotherly love and friendship and prompts us to kind deeds of service." David O McKay (9th President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints)

I remember realising one year how my letters to Father Christmas had changed. They had gone from...

 "Dear Father Christmas,

Thank you so much for the wonderful doll you left last Christmas. It was perfect. This year, I don't want much at all, but you know me....another doll would be great..." (more or less)

to...

"Dear Father Christmas,

I've had a really wonderful year. Thank you so much for all you've done. Last Christmas was really wonderful. I've been very blessed. I feel very grateful for my family and friends and for all that I have....."

You see, I realised then that my letters weren't to Father Christmas at all. They were to my Heavenly Father. At some point, they had changed addressee- from the man who gave me physical gifts at Christmas time, to the man who gives me all kinds of gifts all year round. 

Was it wrong for me to believe in Father Christmas? Was it blasphemous for me to attribute many of the qualities of a loving Heavenly Father to a jolly man in a red suit? I don't believe so. After I lost my Christmas groove following finding out about Father Christmas, it was by CONTINUING to "believe" that helped me to find it again.

The man in the red suit is a perfect symbol for everything that Christmas should be about. He is the image that personifies the excitement a child feels at this time of year, and is, consequently, a wonderful way to help children understand their feelings and expand upon them. As a Christian, Christmas is all about Christ for me. ALL about Him. I believe in Christ all the year through and I try every day to be more like him in his goodness, kindness, compassion etc... Believing in Father Christmas takes a small part of the joy of Christ and wraps it up especially for Christmas, for all people to enjoy, religious or not. 

Father Christmas is generous, happy, kind, forgiving (no doubt there were Christmasses in all our lives where we did not deserve all we received! Yet somehow, he always came!) There is nothing unkind, or evil about Father Christmas. In his essence, he is NOT a commercial creation for the selling of the latest toys. Not at all. I would put it to you that, perhaps, if you feel that way, you have got HIM all wrong. He never brought me the lastest toys or the most expensive gadgets. He never went over the top. In my house, he was just they way he should be and he was magical. Indeed, I would say, for Father Christmas to be magical, you need very little.

What I learned from my years of writing those letters is that they were all to 

Father Christmas. 

The Father OF Christmas. 

The Father of Christ. Indeed,

The Father of us all. 

HE is whom I have to be grateful for all the gifts I receive...whether that's that my parents were able to afford the doll I have always wanted, or that this year I have been able to help friends in need, or use my talents and time to bless others... or most importantly, that HE sent His son to earth to live, and die, and rise again, as an example to us all of how to be and who we can turn to for help as we walk the paths of life. We do not need to be alone. Because our Heavenly Father, gave us that first, most precious Christmas gift, we might have happiness and joy, not just at Christmas time, but all the year through. 

I am so grateful for the things I have learnt through my belief in Father Christmas. I am excited to make him come alive for my children, as my parents did for me, and I am equally excited to see them learn and discover the same things that I have. Because for me, he IS real, because all he stands for is real. So. I believe in Father Christmas. *shows badge*.

"There are men who object to Santa Claus, because he does not exist! Such men need spectacles to see that Santa Claus is a symbol; a symbol of the love and joy of Christmas and the Christmas spirit. In the land of my birth there was no Santa Claus, but a little goat was shoved into the room, carrying with it a basket of Christmas toys and gifts. The goat of itself counted for nothing; but the Christmas spirit, which it symbolized, counted for a tremendous lot." John A Widtsoe, (former member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles)