Santa Exists

January 18, 2011
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Albert Schweitzer, a morally driven man, once expressed, “Sometimes our light goes out but is blown into flame by another human being. Each of us owes deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this light.” Sometimes being human, in a world that owns your reputation, can dwindle the honesty of happiness. Sometimes believing in the impalpable can have affects of truth. If everyone in this world were to have the soul of a child, maybe there would be more good than evil in this life. But, instead we just sit back and stress over insignificant tangible “things” when maybe the most significant is the spirit of morality. And this spirit relinquishes itself once a year to exemplify the reflection of memoirs. This is not the spirit of Christmas past, present, or future; it is the spirit of Old Saint Nick, or in other words, Santa Claus.

The refreshing pine and winter breeze dances around my feet as I saunter across the righteous sidewalk to church. The heavy wooden doors open clandestinely causing me to tread even slower than I was already going. I half expected to see blinding lights cast down to purify my holiday soul, but instead I saw humble lights welcoming guests and volunteers to a mountain of wrapping paper, gifts, and Christmas trees. The leaders of the church explained what was to be expected from our kind helping hearts, and how much gratitude God will have for us, and I actually appreciated that. We began by choosing a name from a box, which was the person who we would be wrapping gifts for. I chose a man named Earnest Shekel, some people renamed him Scrooge. I unconsciously meandered over to the large pile of gifts nervously pondering the outlines of this man’s face, personality, and thoughts. I mean he could not be that bad, so I chose a gift that I thought would suit him. It was a gold watch that was used, but was still in good condition. Hopefully, he would take in account how much thought I put into it, but what was I kidding I chose some guy called Scrooge; I did not hold my expectations high.

As I looked around the church room I began to pity myself because everyone had smiles wider than the Grand Canyon, probably because they got appreciative children to wrap their gifts for, and me? Well, like I said, I received some old man who everyone called Scrooge. I carefully chose the wrapping paper still holding on to the thought that I could somehow “wow” this man, so I chose a green wrapping paper with Santa’s face plastered all over it. I realized that I have never been good at wrapping gifts, but I tried my hardest and put all of my effort into it. It ended up looking deformed, but on the positive side he would not be able to guess what was inside. I topped my masterpiece off with an oversized bow, thinking that I probably needed to take classes on wrapping presents, but it’s the thought that counts.

The church leaders announced that our people would arrive in approximately 30 seconds, so we all assembled ourselves into a line to greet our oh so grateful choices. Those large wooden doors began to open up once again, and I could not help but wonder how magical they looked with the night sky luminously casting shadows onto it through the glass stained windows. I snapped back into reality when I realized a diversity of people were rushing excitedly through those curios looking doors. All of the volunteers had their people already, and I felt kind of companionless or like a lost and abandoned child. I sighed and turned thinking that he was not going to show up, but to my surprise he was off in an isolated corner, and I thought how much we were alike at that moment; alone. As I cautiously strolled over, I took note that he was staring out of one of the radiant windows. I extended the horribly wrapped gift out to him, and he gazed longingly at the Santa Claus wrapping paper. He carefully reached for the gift and choked a sorrowful, “Thank you.” I replied with a smile of regret because he did not seem as bad as everyone made him out to be. He began to tell me a memory, “I remember as a child I would wait up for Santa Claus hoping I could hand him one of the cookies myself. By the way those cookies tasted like dirt, my mother was never a good baker, but I ate those rocks like they were the best piece of 39 cent candy in the world. Well anyways, my point is that I seemed to be happier when I believed in this….fable, and now I can be compared to the Grinch, or whatever these kids call me now these days. Christmas is not about all of these unneeded materials it is about the joy… the feeling… the belief. I believe that Santa exists not in sight, but in spirit. His soul thrives in those joyous child like spirits, and I hope that one day they can see that…but who knows….I’m just an old bitter man who does not know what he’s talking about.” I let him ramble about how unappreciative humans are these days as he unwrapped his terribly wrapped gift. He glanced at the watch and laughed. I found that very rude, but then I began to chuckle only because his laugh seemed to have some kind of power. Then he gasped out an exasperated, “Seems like you need the watch more than me considering you were standing over there while I was waiting for my gift!” Then he concluded with, “But you’re not going to get it because I actually want it.” By then I pulled up a chair and listened while he verbalized his thoughts about what Christmas is supposed to mean and how people abuse this time of year to receive what they most desire. Then he babbled about how the world can be changed one good person at a time, and unexpectantly he placed his rough hand upon my shoulder and confidently pronounced, “Thank you…for everything.” I reached over and gave him a hug and said, “No, thank you.” He swiped a hidden tear from his face and rumbled a, “Now don’t get all mushy on me, or I’ll roll my wheel chair away, and keep the gift.” We burst into an explosive guffaw, and I pondered in the convex of my mind’s eye. I thought of how all he probably wanted was for someone to listen to him, and I just happened to be that somebody.

Later in the night when the church was cleared out, I took one last look at the door and really thought of how magical those doors really were. Then I thought of the man I had met; no not scrooge, or the Grinch, or any other monstrous creature, he was Earnest Shekel a man with much wisdom. My last surmise was that maybe I can change the world one day, with this one hope, on this one Christmas day, but for now I will start with one gift…no matter how badly it is wrapped.





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