“The joy of brightening other lives becomes the magic of Christmas.” – W.C. Jones
Repost a Christmas Story from 2006 or so. But this actual story was twenty years ago.
In our village lives another Franco-American family. Their little boy Luca asked me with pleading eyes, “Corey, remember last year Santa came to your house to see me?” Barely the word yes came out of my mouth when he was on to the next question, “How did he know? I mean, How did that happen? Who told him?” His huge lollipop eyes are looking right through my heart…Gee, this Christmas tall tale sometimes really gets me. I’m not telling the truth, but saying the truth sounds like Mr. Grinch! Looking right at him, I said, “I did. I am the one who wrote Santa.”
A year ago, almost to the day, Luca started to well up with tears for no apparent reason in the middle of the afternoon. When we asked him what was wrong, he said he had never seen Santa, and with bigger tears splashing on the floor, he added, “And and and… he has never seen me!” Well, I had to change that devastating fact of his life.
Luca stood still. In his eyes, I could see hero written above my head as he begged, “Oooooooooh, Corey, could you write him again? Tell him our chimney is too small. Papa shuts the shutters at night and locks the door, too. So, um…um…do you know what to tell him? How will he get in my house on Christmas night?”
Gee, this Christmas tall tale is putting me in a pickle. I remember once driving with my two little children in the back seat. Chelsea (who believed in Santa until she was ten (!!!) was saying how nice it was that the village was collecting gifts for the children of Bosnia. Sacha, who I honestly think never believed in Santa from the moment of his birth, looked at his sister doubtfully. Setting her up, he said, “Chelsea, couldn’t Santa just fly over and drop his gifts out?” Falling right in the trapper’s trap, she defended her man, “Oh Sacha, it is a war zone there, and Santa and his rein deers could be bombed!” I saw the smirk smile as Sacha delivered his one-two punch to Chelsea’s belief system, “Chelsea, if Santa can make those rein deers fly all over the world in one night, I am sure he can fly into a war zone and fly out with a crack of his whip! You know he IS magical!”
Sacha, who is now 13, hugs Luca lovingly. He whispers, “Luca, Santa is magical! And he will see you with his arms full of presents! You wait and see!”
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