Christmas Magic
The thing about having young grandchildren around is they give you the perfect excuse to let your inner child out for a bit. You know, to act silly, laugh too loud, and soak in some simple joys. For me, that’s not exactly a stretch—I’m pretty good at acting silly.
This is Lucas, my youngest grandchild. A couple of weeks ago a, for his birthday, we headed to SilverBrook Farm in Acushnet, Massachusetts, on a mission: to find the real Santa Claus.
Now, Lucas isn’t one to just take things at face value. On the way there, he asked the question I should’ve known was coming: “Papa, how will we know if it’s the real Santa?”
“Well, we could just ask him,” I said.
Lucas gasped like I’d suggested something completely outrageous. “We could NEVER do that!” he said, shaking his head. “We have to watch how he acts and listen to what he says.”
I couldn’t argue with that logic.
When we finally saw Santa, Lucas told him all about the giant T-Rex he wanted for Christmas. A little while later, he came running to me, grinning from ear to ear.
“Papa, he’s DEFINITELY the real Santa!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “How do you know?”
“Because he knows exactly what kind of food I’m supposed to leave for the reindeer! And look at his glasses! They’re perfect. He’s the real Santa Claus!”
And just like that, I was sold. I mean, how could I possibly deny it? More importantly, how could I deny that smile, the one Lucas wore all the time we were there, like it was glued on his face?
“Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having in spirit, become a child again at Christmastime.”
Laura Ingalls Wilder
Through Lucas’s eyes, I found myself back at the starting point of imagination—the place where everything is magical and nothing is rushed. It’s a place so easy to lose as we grow older, with life pushing us faster and faster into the express lanes. But not on this day. Not with Lucas there to remind me to slow down.
On that night, Lucas wasn’t just enjoying the magic of the season—he was the magic. Fearless in his belief, certain in his joy, and still holding onto the innocence that lets a child’s world be whatever they dream it to be. Lucas and I had seen the real Santa Claus, and nothing in the world could have convinced us otherwise.
Don’t we all wish we could go back to that feeling sometimes? Back to a time when magic wasn’t fleeting, and life was full of wonder? I know I do.
Thank God for kids like Lucas, the ones who pull us out of the express lanes and into the moments that matter. They remind us not to let the magic slip away.
As Fred Rogers so wisely said:
“I like to compare the holiday season with the way a child listens to a favorite story. The pleasure is in the familiar way the story begins, the anticipation of the familiar turns it takes, the familiar moments of suspense, and the familiar climax and ending.”
Who better than Mr. Rogers—and Lucas—to remind us of these simple, important truths? They’re both cut from the same cloth. And the best part is, we can be, too.
“May you never be too grown up to search the skies on Christmas Eve.”
Anonymous
Talk soon…
G