making room in the Inn for Santa

part 3 of “to Santa or not to Santa”

I began my parental relationship with Santa Claus with slight trepidation. After introducing him to our four and five year old children I still worried (I was such a worrier) about whether we had done the right thing. The kids understood that Santa had a few rules to follow if he was to remain welcome in our home, and I tried to tread that ground carefully, balancing my idealism with allowing my children to enjoy the gift of magic and excitement that he had always brought to me as a child. I didn’t want to hold him hostage, but . . . . . .

Santa sitting in Charlie’s rocking chair

Oh how I wish that I could have had the slightest glimpse into the future – just enough to know that all would be well so that I could have relaxed a bit.

As time went on, I witnessed Santa evolve into the central figure in our Christmas celebrations as we enjoyed sharing the holiday with grandparents and aunts and uncles who delighted in the few children in both our families. We were riding a wave that I felt powerless to control, and I wasn’t happy about it. The way Christmas had developed – not because we actively created it, but because we allowed it – left me unsatisfied and feeling that I was letting our children down. Santa had become all I said I’d never allow him to become. He became our Christmas. I knew I could ask him to leave. I had reserved that right after all, but now there were so many others to consider. The overwhelming reality however, was that we were still the parents, and it was our responsibility to follow our hearts and reclaim the way we celebrated Christmas.

I tossed it around for months, considering different angles, and discussing the few that seemed reasonable with Dan. Santa and Jesus didn’t have to be mutually exclusive and although we had tried to talk about the source of the tender spirit-of-giving that motivated Santa, it seemed that our kids were so busy being ‘children’ (huh), full of the childhood wonder of Santa Claus with all his trappings, that I feared I had missed something really important. I sensed that time was ticking, and their memories were becoming more firm and important. It was clear that if were were to reclaim the way we chose to celebrate Christmas, we needed to create meaningful Christ-centered traditions. We were approaching Christmas 1986. We had four children, our youngest was just a year old.

In the end, we hit on a plan. We agreed to give Christmas Day to Santa Clause, but we reserved Christmas Eve for the Saviour. I wanted Christmas EVE to BE about Him. We wanted to talk about him and imagine the night of his birth. I realize that many families re-enact the nativity, but that wasn’t ‘us‘. We needed something that worked for us.

We talked about what kind of dinner Mary and Joseph might have had during their travels and after they arrived in Bethlehem. Research resources were not what they are now, but it seemed reasonable that their meal was very simple, and humble.

There was likely cheese. And undoubtedly bread. Flat bread. Perhaps figs or dates if they were lucky. Or dried fish. More than likely they would have drank water from a well or fresh wine / which wouldn’t have been much more than grape juice. It was probable that during their stay in Bethlehem they may have acquired mutton from time to time . . . . After dark, their only light would have been from candles or small lamps.
A picture began forming.

We envisioned, and then planned out our meal. It would be a simple one of white cheese with homemade flat bread, and grape juice. By candlelight. . . Preparing it was a family event. Making the bread. Cutting the cheese. Making the juice. Then we lit the candles and turned off the lights. Low light often reduces volume, and quiet discussion allows for tender feelings to be expressed. These are things we discovered while eating bread and cheese in the soft light of candles.

We have eaten bread and cheese by candlelight every Christmas Eve since 1986. There were years that were lean and cheese was expensive so there was less of it. In those years, we put homemade jam on the table. There were other years of plenty that saw fish and olives on the table. Other foods have been added from time to time. Figs. Dates. Pomegranates have become a personal favourite of mine. Oranges. More varieties of cheese. But always homemade flatbread. Always white cheese. Always purple grape juice. The grape juice has become our own, from our own purple grapes – saved for this meal.

It has become our most favourite Christmas tradition of all. One that we have maintained for over three decades. Half of my life. It is a delight to us to watch our children carry it on in their own homes with their children, and to hear that it remains their favourite tradition.

When does Santa get his time?

When the meal is over and cleaned up, and stories have been shared, and songs have been sung, . . . When guests have left, teeth have been brushed, . . . then we gather into the family room and Dan reads a favourite poem that we all know by heart but we listen to him anyway –

“Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
In the hopes that St. Nickolaus soon would be there
….. “

I’ll admit it gets a little animated. And for families who normally don’t role-play, or do charades, kid after kid has always wanted a chance to portray the “plump, jolly old elf with a broad face and a little round belly, that shook, when he laughs like a bowlful of jelly.”

We owe a lot to Clement C. Moore – it is his description we rely on when we visualize Santa Claus. And he should know, because he spied him in his very own parlour all those years ago. I am grateful he took the time to write his experience down so that all of us might benefit.

I have come to love Santa Claus – and all he represents to me. I no longer quarrel with him. I am satisfied that he has done our family a great service in visiting us every Christmas Eve since that inaugural visit in 1982. We have felt his spirit as each of our children have discovered for themselves in their own time – who he really is, and what he really looks like, and WHAT HE DOES.

I think the tipping point for me in making that final decision all those years ago, was that I never felt the betrayal I’ve heard others speak of. Of course like others, I reached the age of doubting, but my mother always maintained that she believed. You could never get her to verbalize anything to the contrary. To this very day at over eighty years old, she still maintains that she believes in Santa Clause and always has. Because she always has, I always have, even though I wondered for a few years, whether I’d invite him into our lives as young parents.

One Christmas Eve when I was fourteen years old my older sister and I talked my mother into letting us help fill the stockings. Our Dad was working that night. We prevailed, and she allowed us into the inner sanctuary reserved for parents on Christmas Eve. The next morning I was shocked to wake up and still feel the magic. I confided to my mother that even though logically I understood, and for goodness sakes, had even filled the stockings, I couldn’t help it – I still “believed”! She never let me help again. Not even when I was seventeen years old and protested mightily. Not even after I was married. Until my own children hung their stockings, I was excluded from her private ritual. Although outwardly I rebelled, inwardly I always appreciated her refusal to give in. It kept the magic alive for me. And I have tried very hard to do the same for my kids.

In this house WE BELIEVE.

I’d love to hear how you incorporate your important family values into Christmas traditions. Please comment below.

Warmly,


Cindy Suelzle

to Santa or not to Santa

…… that is a question every parent must come to terms with at some point early in their parenting. (part 1 of “to Santa or not to Santa”)

And its not a question to be taken lightly, because whatever you decide, it isn’t your right to wreck it for others’ who may choose a different path. For me, in our very first year of parenting it could be avoided. We had the only grandchildren on both sides, so the precedent hadn’t been established. We in fact, unintentionally – had the responsibility for establishing a precedent in both of our families. A place of considerable pressure for someone as young and idealistic as we were.

The dilemma I felt was that I wanted our children to love the Saviour and to recognize that Christmas was first and foremost about celebrating His birth, and to acknowledging the important part He played in our life. I felt that a celebration the magnitude of Christmas, could be justified just as well with or without Santa Claus. But on the other hand, I had many fond memories of Santa and didn’t want to deny my kids the wholesome magic that he brings with him. But still, Santa had overshadowed any feeling I might have had as a child for the Saviour. In fact in my early childhood, I had no knowledge of the birth of Jesus and its connection to Christmas. Nativities were not a part of our Christmas. Truth be told, I don’t believe they were a part of very many people’s Christmas in those days. I never saw one when I was a child, or a youth.

I successfully dodged that bullet for a few years, while our extended families, the grandparents and aunts and uncles stood a respectful distance away from Santa while allowing us the privilege of making that decision. Christmas of 1982 was the year I needed to jump off the fence and make a decision. Jacob was four and a half years old. Sarah was three and a half. They were going to have memories of this Christmas and it was time for me to make the choice: Was Santa going to be a part of our Christmas or not? The problem was, that I didn’t have a crystal ball and couldn’t tell how inviting Santa into our lives would impact our family long term. Dan wanted Santa. Our folks all wanted Santa. All our kids’ aunts and uncles wanted Santa. . . . . And there were other issues to consider. Like how to introduce him at this point?

Finally, I hit upon a plan. I discussed it with Dan and we had an important family council with our kids. It was time. We told them about the old man who lived at the north pole, who loved children. His delight in life we told them was to make children happy, and because of that, he spent his whole year building toys for them which he gave to them once a year on Christmas Eve. We held nothing back. We laid out for them the whole picture. The red suit and beard, the sleigh and reindeer, the elves, the list, …. everything. They were spell bound, wide eyed and enthralled. We told them that there was only one thing Santa loved more than children. He loved Jesus Christ. And he celebrated the birth of Jesus Christ by giving gifts and spreading good cheer because it made him so happy to do so, BUT his one fear and worry, was that children would get so excited about him and the presents, that they would forget about the “reason for the season” – the celebration of the birth of our Saviour.

His commitment was that if that happened in any house he normally visited, he would simply stop coming to that house. As long as the children remembered Jesus, and were grateful for Santa’s gifts then he would come every year for their whole lives. But if the children got too caught up in Santa and thought that Christmas was all about him and not about Jesus, he would stop coming to them. Of course, he might depend on us as parents to let him know how that was going. We told our kids that Dad and I thought they were big enough for us to invite Santa for Christmas – if of course, they wanted him to come. You won’t be surprised to know that they very much wanted him to come! And they promised that they would always remember the reason we celebrated Christmas, which was also the reason Santa did all his wonderful stuff.

The Spirit of Christmas by Greg Olson

That was it then. We officially invited Santa Claus into our Christmas the year of 1982. We were expecting our third child the next spring. It was time we moved on. I had some trepidation, but I was determined to monitor our Santa-meter and keep our Christmases in balance.

As it would happen, Santa Claus happened to be visiting our local shopping mall that Saturday and I asked the kids if they’d like to go see him. They had never seen him – or any likenesses of him, before then. It is wonderful, the control a parent has over the influence the world has on a four year old. Don’t we all wish we could protect them for a life time with the same care and attention we could when they were toddlers? We controlled what they saw on television, what they read and what they saw of the world. And until we were ready, I prevented any exposure they had to Santa Claus. We made preparations to go the very next day to see him.

As we stood in a long line of excited children, (another new experience for Jacob and Sarah, as I normally avoided crowds and malls) – I noted that Santa was asking kids what they wanted for Christmas. Yikes. I forgot about that important detail. Our kids did not know they could make gift requests. I coached them “Santa Claus may ask you what you want for Christmas. If he does, Jacob why don’t you tell him you’d like a covered wagon made out of wood with horses?”
“Okay!” he readily agreed.
“Sarah, how bout you ask him for a princess dress?”
“Okay!” she joined.

Whew. That wasn’t so hard. We got closer and Jacob and Sarah were very observant of all that was going on around them. I too watched the minutes unfold – this truly was a departure point for our little family, at least where the kind old man of Christmas was concerned. My kids were getting big enough that it was time for me to let some of the world into their lives – while I could still control the circumstances.

Finally, we were at the front of the line. Santa invited them to come near to him. I accompanied. He asked them if they had been good children. They assured him they had. As predicted, he asked them what they would like for Christmas. Jacob announced that he would like a toy covered wagon drawn by horses. Sarah told him she would like a princess dress (which bytheway, in 1982 was not the Disney princess dresses we’re so familiar with nowadays). Santa nodded and made mental note, then asked “What else would you like?”
Oops. I hadn’t anticipated that one.
We don’t know.” Jacob confided “Our mom didn’t tell us that one yet.
Whew. Quick thinking Son. We said our good byes and received candy canes for our visit. Dad happily waited on the other side to hear about our experience.

It was a happy day for him and the kids. A bit traumatic for me, but happy nonetheless. Our family was growing up. And we had just taken a big step into a new world that could never be reversed. A tangible innocence was traded in that day, for another circumstance – another innocence that would carry us for several more years until our children were ready to make another transition: a coming-of-age discovery that Santa Claus would play a big part in. In fact, he was here to stay the rest of their lives – in one form or another.

(this is part 1 of our Santa story)  
I’d love to hear about how you made that important choice of inviting (or not inviting) Santa into your family’s lives.

Warmly,

Cindy Suelzle