There’s a couple hot buttons in the blogosphere (more than a couple, I’m sure). Among them, I think, are homeschooling (I don’t), fundraising (yup, do a lot of that), and Santa. And, well, you all know about my Santa views now.
I wasn’t quite prepared for the response to that one. Lots of pats on the backs and lots of shoulder shrugs and “ugh”s.
At the end of the blogging day, I was pretty pumped from all the discussion and appreciated the opportunity to see things myself in a new way. My friend Gina commented:
We are full-on Santa lovers in our family. To me Santa IS all about generosity and sacrifice. Santa works all year to give to others. Santa wants to see all children with smiles on their faces. As children get older, they begin to understand that Santa is a metaphor for how we all should act. WE all should be like Santa. We all should work to put smiles on others’ faces. We learn that Christmas is more fun in the giving than the receiving.
I had never really thought of Santa being a model of sacrifice. But, you know, there’s really something to that.
And, from Bridget:
In our home, Santa loves Jesus so much that he wants to share that love by bringing happiness and joy to the children of the world. While Santa helps us celebrate with gifts, we are honoring the birth of Jesus.
Pretty neat.
Another friend, Cindy, told me how much she appreciated my post and understood how we got there and that she has arrived at a different way of doing things for her family. So, I invited her to share it with all of you. Check it out.
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With Christmas coming and my kids getting older, I’ve been asked several times when I plan on telling my kids that Santa isn’t real. I always respond to questions like that the same way: I never, ever plan on telling my kids that Santa isn’t real, and I really hope no one else does either. Because to us, he is as real as the day is long.
I know there are children who celebrate without Santa who have just as lovely a Christmas as those of us who do. Jesus’s birthday is cause for plenty of celebration with or without the jolly guy in red having a part in it. And other religions that don’t celebrate Christmas at all get along just fine without even thinking of Mr. Claus. Hey, Santa’s not for everyone.
The thing is, we LOVE Santa here at our house. No, I’ve never actually seen the guy. I don’t know if he actually lives at the North Pole and has reindeer that fly. No, I don’t think he actually travels across the world dropping gifts to everyone in one single night. But I do think he’s there. Somewhere.
When I was a kid, besides Santa there was also this little nameless elf that would visit us each morning for the full week before Christmas. Starting December 19th, my sister and I would wake up to a little treat next to our pillows. It was never anything huge… just a roll of Lifesavers or maybe a pack of Scratch n’ Sniff stickers. But that little trinket always gave us such a thrill – like an appetizer for the big day. I never saw that mysterious elf either. I just always hoped and had faith that he (or she) would show up, just like the big man on Christmas.
I don’t know. . . I can’t explain it completely. To my kids and me, Santa is the personification of that unexplainable feeling. That magical, mystical feeling that goes beyond Jesus’s birthday celebration. The one that feels like sparkles and smells like peppermint, wood-burning fireplaces and vanilla cookies. Taking all that magic, stuffing it into a red suit and giving it name like Santa Claus helps make that feeling concrete.
Santa gives me a happy feeling that I always hope my children feel as well. Maybe it’s just the tradition of it all that works for us. Or maybe I’m just the crazy woman that lives next door. Either way, I love keeping the spirit of Santa Claus alive and well and hope that everyone can respect our choice to do so.
Cindy Dudas is a work-at-home mom who started blogging as a way to get her feelings out there. She is a freelance writer/blogger currently writing for the Parental Guidance section of NJ.com and her own blog Whatever Works.