Conflicted about “Santa”
WARNING: “Spoiler”. If you believe in Santa, (or if you’re not ready to think about disbelief in him), you may want to skip over this entry.
This time of year is bittersweet. The deep meaning of Christmas and the richness of the mystery of the Incarnation provide thrilling anticipation, excitement and endless food for thought. My favorite thing to do during this time of year, is to turn to the Church. In her wisdom, she prescribes a plan of preparation for Christmas: Advent. The penitential season of small sacrifices, a “Mini-Lent”, followed by the quiet, simple welcoming of the newborn Babe in the crib.
Contrast this to the busy-ness of the season and doing the “supermom” thing for about four weeks. Commercialism and Materialism are clamoring for my attention. Presents to be wrapped, baking to be done, and a special Christmas dinner to prepare. I have to keep reminding myself to be still and know…
The kids and I have been learning a lot these past few weeks. We’ve learned about the December saints – St. Lucy, O.L.G. (Our Lady of Guadalupe), and my husband’s patron, St. Nicholas! Our Advent wreath has two cracked purple candles from all their use, (and two still intact ones which will hopefully make it for the next 7 days!) and we have been going through the “O Antiphons”. I’ve been trying to focus our attention on the true meaning of Christmas…and the saints who helped the poor and the homeless during this time of year.
I can’t possibly imagine having to perpetuate a myth about Santa as well.
In our chaotic home, every moment I get with my kids counts. I usually have to talk to them about topics in order of importance. We have always spoke of St. Nicholas, the precursor to today’s modern Santa. But I could never go all out and speak of Santa as “real”. Santa is in the Christmas storybooks on our shelf, many people pretend he is real. Am I a true “GrinchMom” for not playing along?
I grew up in a house with Santa. It was a magical thing to think that the bearded guy really delivered my heart’s desire under the tree. I remember the day I figured out that the handwriting on the gift from “Santa” was actually my mother’s. “Now, how did my mom get involved in this thing with Santa?” I thought to myself. So, I asked her point blank why her writing was on the package. She giggled and her face turned red, and then I knew it had been her all along.
Our family continued to have Santa deliver presents under our tree long after Santa had been “found out”. Christmas in my family growing up was a special time where we put aside grudges that we carried with us throughout the year, we were particularly generous with one another; it was a good time. It was an education in “the spirit of Christmas”. But every year after it was all over and the Christmas spirit faded, we resumed our “business as usual” attitude with one another, and I felt the pressures of my own world heavy upon me, once again.
When my son, John, was about three years old, I tried to take him to see Santa. It didn’t go well. But instead of really pushing him to get over being afraid of sitting on his lap and telling him what he wanted for Christmas, I just let him lead.
On the way home he told me he didn’t want to do that because he perceived he was a “fake”.
He was always a precocious child. Always incredibly reflective, thoughtful, with a thirst for the truth, and demanding of honesty. With his approach to the world, I thought if I told him that Santa was really more than a fictional character, I would really be letting him down.
I never really discouraged my children from believing in Santa. Rather, what happened was that the idea of Santa never “took off” in our family – and if it would have, my son with Asperger’s Syndrome would have stopped it dead in its tracks. Last week, he calculated how theoretically impossible it is that Santa could exist.
So, while a part of me wonders if I have made a mistake in not trying to be more persuasive, the other part of me sleeps well at night knowing that I have no regrets in being completely honest with my kids.
“You may think Bah-humbug, but I won’t be persuaded otherwise.
After all, it is better to give than to receive, and the Santa Claus myth focuses all the attention on the receiving, and in many cases turns little children into little snots. I’d rather focus attention on giving, by letting them know about those who are less fortunate, and doing something good for them, rather than in just expecting toys that they don’t need and won’t really even appreciate.” (Credit for the thoughts in quotations is due to Kathy Peterson’s blog.)
