How
old was I when I learned the crushing news that Santa “lived in our hearts”
rather than at the North Pole? I can’t
recall. I know I clung to the myth long
after that despite all evidence to the contrary, still getting my picture taken
with the jolly old dude well into my teens, just for a laugh I told myself. But the truth was, as the adult world pressed
in on me from all sides, I longed to hold onto that child who still believed in
magic.
There
is a lot of talk about the “Magic of the Season,” mostly in store advertisements
seeking to part us from our hard-earned cash, or even better “charge it” to a
later date, a time made much less magical once that debt comes due. Still, it’s easy to get caught up in the buying
frenzy. We want to recapture that
excitement of Christmas mornings past, ripping through wrapping paper to find
“what Santa brought us,” and watching others do the same.
After
all, “Christmas comes but once a year,” we tell ourselves. And it’s true. Sure, we’re encouraged to keep Christmas in
our hearts throughout the year, but all too soon the challenges of everyday
living chip away at all that good cheer and the magic drifts away.
Still,
we all know there is more to this magic-of-the-season business than buying
stuff. If we’re among the fortunate to
have our basic needs for shelter, food, and loved ones met, if we have our
health, it is a time to take stock of how truly blessed we are.
Life
is a minefield that can blow our sorry asses up at any time in a myriad of ways. I never fail to marvel at the end of each day
that I’m still here, so the end of another year? Oh, yeah.
Big whoop-ass party.
You
can bet I’ll be decking those halls, indulging in eggnog and even spending more
than I planned. With all the strife in
the world, we need to let our inner child out again – the one whose open heart
still hears the jingle bells of Santa and his sleigh on Christmas Eve. The one who still believes.
Ho,
ho, ho…
