Someone told me, just after I'd shared this story with them for the holidays, that there's another author who published almost exactly the same story before me. I'm not surprised, since I was inspired to write this from a popular picture of Santa kneeling beside the manger. I'm sure there are a lot of authors who have written something similar.
But I like my version, and I'm going to continue to share it. Merry Christmas.
“The Gift of Christmas”
by Cheri L. Chesley
The story of Christmas has
different meanings for everyone. For
some, the mere mention of the holiday conjures up hours at the mall waiting in
lines or traveling from party to party or even of finding that perfect
gift. For others the word “Christmas”
calls up visions of a jolly, bearded man in a red velvet suit. And still others, well, for those Christmas
holds a deeper meaning. Without trying
to disturb other concepts of this precious holiday, please allow room for one
more version of the Christmas story.
It may surprise you, if you
think about it, the many different stories of how Santa Claus came to actually
exist. One theory is that the dear man
is timeless—and ageless—and has been traveling ‘round the world one night a
year for countless generations, ever since that first time he hefted a sack
full of toys on his shoulder. Another
idea holds the term “Santa” is a title rather than a name and is handed down to
the males of the Claus lineage. What happens,
I wonder, if all they have is girls for a couple of generations? It’s been known to happen. I’m not here to unravel the mystique of Santa
Claus. That is not my purpose. This tale is a grander, yet simpler, one.
A new sense of wonder and excitement was in the air
over the North Pole this particular year.
Everyone felt it—the elves, the reindeer, and most significantly, Santa
and Mrs. Claus. Santa, by all accounts a
happy, cheery man, grew restless and even pensive as Christmas drew
nearer. The elves reported to their
families that he was unusually quiet.
Even the reindeer noted his soft touch had become more firm. Mrs. Claus, her name is Sara by the way, took
all reports with a soft smile. She knew
Santa Claus anticipated more than gift giving this holiday season.
The star had begun to shimmer more brightly in the
night sky. Santa was one of the first—or
perhaps the only—to notice, given as he was to star gazing. A man simply doesn’t spend an entire night,
even just once a year, in the air without some knowledge of the sky. It wasn’t yet at its brightest, this star,
but he kept watch over it just the same.
Still there was work to do. For unlike some version of his story with
visuals of lordly supervision of the elves, Santa Claus actually helps make the
toys and gifts. He is really more like
an overgrown elf himself. Though
delicate elfish fingers are better for tying laces, painting eyelashes and some
other minute details, Santa could stuff teddy bears and paint wooden
trucks. And of course there was the
List. Little Sam wanted a fire engine;
Amy wanted a doll. Or was it the other
way around? Mr. Claus would chuckle as he
thought of the nice children, and a few of the naughty. He understood children weren’t naughty by
nature—those who seemed so were usually either unhappy or misguided.
It was snowing Christmas Eve as the elves prepared
the sleigh and hitched up the reindeer.
Each package had been wrapped with care and lovingly placed in Santa’s
talented red velvet sack. The man himself
was helping load the sleigh. He had been
dressed for hours, since the moment Mrs. Claus had finished the last stitch in
his red coat. She makes him a new one
every year, in case you didn’t know.
Santa was eager to get started. When the last gift was packed he kissed his
wife and climbed into the sleigh. He
gave the elves a final wave of farewell and, with a quiet word to the reindeer,
they were on their way. He urged them
higher and higher into the night sky, and though his tone was never sharp the
reindeer felt his urgency and increased their speed to match it.
House after house they worked their magic. The night wore on; the moon rose high and
then began to sink. Still Mr. Claus
pressed on. He was nearer now; his
target fixed in his mind. The goal was
almost obtained.
The magic of being Santa Claus is precious. Most valued is the gift of being able to
touch the hearts of children. To “see
them when they’re sleeping” and to “know when they’re awake” and to “know if
they’ve been bad or good” are special blessings. So who better to know when the birth of a
child takes place? He needs no
announcement or letter to know when another dear spirit has come to grace the
Earth. And then the most Precious one of
all comes, no one needs to tell Santa.
So this night, with one last gift in his sack,
Santa Claus turned his reindeer toward the brightest star in the sky, the star
that burned brighter and more clearly than any other star in the Heavens. It was not an easy journey but instead one of
bitter wind and cold. More than once the
reindeer wanted to turn back but Mr. Claus urged them on.
It was not easy to land reindeer on the tiny roof
of the little stable in Bethlehem
but Santa Claus knew how to do it.
Flying reindeer by nature have a very light step so they hardly
disturbed the occupants when they touched down.
With practiced ease he quickly took up his red velvet sack and got out
of the sleigh.
Stables don’t usually have chimneys and I’m not
going to try and convince you this one did.
Like most other stables this one was not designed for human occupation,
despite its purpose that night. (I am
not here to reveal all of his secrets, so you won’t hear from me how he got off
and then back on the roof.)
Now that he had arrived at his destination, Santa
felt a wonderful calm come over him. The
rush of delivering gifts and treats to children was over. He had made it—he had arrived in time.
Once on the ground, Mr. Claus was struck by the
humble stature of the stable. As he
stepped into the dim light he slid his cap off his head. He was greeted by the warm, welcoming smile
of Mary and the firm, gentle handshake of Joseph. They said nothing, but seemed to be expecting
him.
As he approached the manger and the glorious child
within Santa fell to his knees. He
remained there for a time—cap clutched in his hands, head bowed—before the
Christ child, until it was time for him to leave.
With something of an apologetic smile, Santa
reached into his sack and placed the gift he had lovingly crafted into the hands
of Mary. She clutched his hand in
appreciation and smiled at him again.
What the gift was I cannot say—when you consider it the nature of the
gift doesn’t matter. With one last look
at the baby Jesus, Santa Claus left the humble manger and returned to the
sleigh. They took off into the night,
Santa pointed the reindeer north, and they all returned home for a well
deserved rest.
So if you have ever wondered how or why Santa Claus
delivers gifts in one solitary night, or what his rush seems to be, please know
and recognize that even Father Christmas understands the real reason behind the
season.
The End
Merry Christmas
