I BELIEVE.

Picture this. Christmas morning at my house growing up consisted of Santa Christmas china, sticky buns, LLBean slipper socks, 2 cats, and my family. After my sister and I waited patiently for my mom and dad to wake us us, we would indulge in our day of festivities to come. My mom would cook (and still does) an over the top Christmas dinner and we would all eat until we couldn't move and the night would end with hot chocolate or coffee in those same Santa Christmas china mugs. Additionally, add the blankets of Minnesota snow, Christmas lambs, real horse drawn sleigh rides from the neighbors, my family could have popped right out of a Thomas Kinkade painting.

Why am I telling you this? I want to point out that the most important thing about this day was not the day itself, but the preparation that had went into making the day (and season) something special. Although the day itself was miraculous, my mom and dad put so much work into making the WHOLE season a memorable experience. In my house, December was filled with two things-Jesus and Santa. A 7 foot evergreen was cut and decorated. Cookies were baked. Stocking were hung. The barns were padded with extra hay and feed so that the reindeer could rest (my dad provided Carrots-which he even nibbled for effect). I told the story of Jesus being born in a barn about 20 different ways to my mom. My dad explained to me several times that Jesus wasn't at risk of frost bite when he was born in the barn like our lambs in the winter (country girl problems). The chimney was greased with leftover bacon grease so that Santa wouldn't stick in the tight chimney. The 8:00pm Christmas Eve service was attended so that I would make it in bed in time for Santa. Finally, the last touch was my mom helped me draft a Santa note and place the cookies out for my beloved Santa (she even put the milk out before she went to bed so that we wouldn't give Santa the stomach bug-GROSS!). 

Looking back, my parents did an impeccable job of intertwining the two into a beautiful package, that allowed me to continue growing in Jesus (the real meaning of CHRISTmas), even when I outgrew my beloved St. Nick. In fact, I owe Santa for teaching me to believe in things that I can not see and Santa was the FIRST belief I ever had to publicly decent (granted I was 12 and still an avid believer), but the point is still the same...Santa was an integral part of making me a Christian. Sure, when I found out the jolly man in the suit did not actually squeeze through my chimney, I was devastated, but eventually the devastation went away and I was able to see the love and hard work my parents had put into the season to help make it special, and to bring me closer to Jesus. Reflecting as an adult on the joy I felt as a kiddo preparing for Santa still warms my soul and today preparing for the King at this time of year and making him a place in my heart is something that I find to be even more warming. Jesus has "filled me with an inexpressible and glorious joy" through believing in him and I am thankful for the role Santa played in helping me develop this rooted faith. 

This holiday season I am feeling extra nostalgic as I am working with needy kiddos at non-profit clinic in East Texas for one of my clinical rotations. I have been overjoyed to share in the excitement of kids preparing for Christmas and humbled by their level of true need for basic necessities such as HEALTH CARE. When reflecting on my memories of Christmas, I don't remember one "special present" or "one PERFECT gift," I remember the time spent with my family, learning the story of the manger, and preparing for Santa. For this reason, the next time one of my kiddos asks me if I believe in Santa-I am going say YES with all my heart. 

End of story. I BELIEVE.