A place to share struggles and triumphs, a place to bless and serve - but never a place to murmur or complain. 

Monday, December 5, 2011

You're On Santa's Team Now

My grandma taught me everything about Christmas. 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. 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 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 Bobbie Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobbie Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out for recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough; but all we kids knew that Bobbie Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat.

I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobbie Decker a coat. I settled on a blue one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. I didn't see a price tag, but ten dollars ought to buy anything. I put the coat and my ten-dollar bill on the counter and pushed them toward the lady behind it. She looked at the coat, the money, and me. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" she asked kindly. "Yes," I replied shyly. "It's... for Bobbie. He's in my class, and he doesn't have a coat." The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons, and write, "To Bobbie, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobbie 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 Bobbie's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Suddenly, 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 doorbell twice 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 Bobbie. He looked down, looked around, picked up his present, took it inside and closed the door.

Forty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my grandma, in Bobbie 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!


Kelline said...

This is precious and it's a well-written story. The greatest blessings I've ever received were found in the smiles of those I've helped. I truly believe that the meaning to life, the answer that's been asked a million bajillion times is, "to give of yourself until you're empty." THIS is the meaning of life!! God bless "little helper."

Tricia said...

great story, I absolutely loved it. You had a great grandma!

QPT said...

Inspiring Christmas Story!!!
We are little helper of GOD.
May god bless you.

Motivational Quotes

Brenna Horton said...

That's so sweet!!

Mary's slave said...

Wonderful. Very inspiring. Thank you for the mind which made you write this so beautifully.

Mary's slave said...

Wonderful,very inspiring. Thank you for the mind which made you write this.

Jeannette said...

Well now you have put in mind Christmas... Tremendous vignette, thank you for sharing Santa dear.

Betty Draper said...

Oh my goodness this is so precious. What a way to teach a child who Santa is. So glad I stopped by. Merry Christmas.

Susan Eastridge said...

I love this.one time I left groceries for a family that my sister knew for their Christmas and then ended up babysitting for them and for their Christmas I gave them gloves,hats and small presents,but when I first left the groceries they wouldn't answer the door even though I explained whose sister I was,Brittani said they would get in trouble if they answered,no lights but home,had to wait a few hours but drove up to my parents and asked my sister to go and spy and make sure that they got them all,gave them enough for two weeks worth plus then also my granny helped buy additional for a nice Christmas dinner,all separated,but she reported some were missing,I enjoyed the giving and babysitting,plus made our Christmas better!LaNoraAnnLeonard