Merry Christmas to one and all. May this email find you in great spirits and health for the holidays. May you have more blessings than trials in your life and enough knowledge to know the difference. May your family and friends be blessed in the upcoming year and may you get everything you need and some of what you want.
Frank, Ashleigh, Alex and I send hope and love for a wonderful Christmas and a joyous and safe New Year – full of life, love and happiness.
Love,
Kelly
BELIEVE IN SANTA CLAUS
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid.
I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big
sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered.
"Even dummies know that!"
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day
because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always
told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot
easier
when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew
they
were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her
everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she
snorted...."Ridiculous!
Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes
me
mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my
second
world-famous
cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store,
the one
store in town
that had a little bit of just about everything.
As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars . That was a
bundle
in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something
for someone
who needs it.
I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of
Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but
never had I shopped
for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of
people scrambling
to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there,
confused, clutching
that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it
for.
I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the
kids at school, the
people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I
suddenly thought of Bobby
Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and sat right behind
me in Mrs. Pollock's
grade-two class.
Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to
recess during the
winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a
cough, but all we kids
knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat.
I
fingered the ten-dollar
bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!
I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real
warm, and he would like that.
"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the
counter
asked kindly, as I laid my
ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's
for Bobby."
The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a
good winter coat.
I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and
wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the
coat, and Grandma
tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To
Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it.
Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over
to Bobby Decker's house,
explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's
helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept
noiselessly and hid in the
bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa
Claus," she whispered,
"get going."
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on
his step, pounded his door
and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.
Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to
open. Finally it did, and there
stood Bobby.
Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering,
beside my Grandma, in Bobby
Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa
Claus were just what
Grandma said they were -- ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we
were on his team.
I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.
may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!
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