“Lacy, He’s 10. Don’t you think it’s time?”
“I don’t know. No. Maybe. Probably.”
“If I was 10 and I still believed in Santa Claus, I’d have been the laughing stock of my class.”
“I know. But it’s a big deal to me, to tell him.”
“You’ll find the right words,” my mother concluded, having a lot more faith in me than I did.
For a couple years now, I have debated telling my oldest child the truth about who puts the presents in his stocking every Christmas. A large part of me clung to his youth, his innocence, and I didn’t want to let that go. I also knew he was nearing an age where still believing would be to his detriment amongst his peers.
It was still a magical thing for him.
He was certain of his faith in the Jolly Overweight Bearded Man coming down our chimney for reasons like, “I know mom couldn’t afford that gift this year so it HAD to come from Santa,” or, “Mom doesn’t even like cookies, so I know Santa is real because he ate them!” The idea of a stranger, whom he had never truly laid eyes upon, bestowing generous gifts upon him every year was so assuring to him.
I wasn’t ready to let it go.
Then I thought, maybe I don’t have to let ALL of it go. Maybe I can teach the principle of Santa Claus without losing the sparkle. So we loaded ourselves into my car and I carried with me my best intentions: to tell the truth and maintain the magic.
I began the conversation by saying, “Let’s do something different ok?”
“Like what?” responded my son.
I then explained that we should go pick out a gift for a random student in his class. One that he can give away anonymously.
“Why?” he asked.
I talked about how the spirit of Christmas is in giving not receiving.
I described to my son that giving anonymously, without the need for recognition or approval, is the real deal. Keeping with our own faith and beliefs, I said, “That’s what God did when he gave us Jesus. He gave him to us as a gift and Jesus then gave us his life and grace as a gift. A thankless act of generosity for all mankind.” After perusing a few department stores we came across a gift that Jay was sure his classmate would like.
“When can I give it to him?” my son asked.
“Well, technically you aren’t going to give it to him. We’ll have your school deliver it to him in a week or so. Anonymously. He won’t know who it’s from,” I said.
“But why?”
“Because that is the true act of giving, son. Without recognition.”
After we checked out and were back in the car. I elaborated on that thought adding, ”Did you know that Mommy gives away gifts every year without recognition?” He replied, “You do? I didn’t know you did that.” Here’s how the rest of that conversation went:
“Yes. Do you want to know who I give them to?”
“Who?”
“You and your brother.” I took a deep breath. “Do you want to know who I say they are from?”
He thought for a moment, then said knowingly, “Santa?”
I said, “Yes.”
“So, Santa’s not real?”
“Well, the Spirit of him is real. The giving without recognition is what it’s truly about.”
An awkward pause. Then he drops a truth bomb on me… “I kind of already knew this because of dad.”
“Wait? What? Your dad told you?” I was in an obvious state of shock. He then admitted that he accidentally found some gifts one year and then on Christmas morning, when they were labeled “From Santa,” he started putting it all together. My awesome mom moment, stolen by reality.
Regardless of whether your child is prepared to know the truth about the Jolly Red Giant, or not, I hope your holiday season is filled with generosity and gratitude… for the ability to give is reason enough to be grateful this Christmas.
