Santa is Real!

You may have read this forward but it's worth a second read.

I love this one!  I hope it touches your heart as it touches mine every time I read it.

May you and your loved ones be Blessed beyond measure on this beautiful day.

I celebrate the Christ in each of you.

Merry Christmas Friends!

Carrie

Believe in Santa Claus


Mary Brown shares her remarkable Christmas memory with us today.

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. It was 1947. 
I was just a kid.  I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her. 
On the way, my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," 
she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day
because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the
truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when
swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were
world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her
everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted ....
"Ridiculous! Don't believe it! That rumor has been going around for years,
and it makes me mad,  plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go." 

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second
world-famous cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that
had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors,
Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this
money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for
you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but
never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and
crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a
few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill,
wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of
everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school,
the people who went to my church.

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He
was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs.
Pollock's grade-two class.  Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that
because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always
wrote a note telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew
that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I
fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby
Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It
looked real warm, and he would like that.

"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked
kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's
for Bobby."

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a
good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag,
smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the
coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and
wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always
insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house,
explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's
helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept
noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a
nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took a deep
breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step,
pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.

Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open.
Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering,
beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes.  That night, I realized that
those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were:
ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have
the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

.... May you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!