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Remembering That Santa and God Work Together

For several years I had the privilege of traveling with Santa when he did his holiday appearances. Here is my report for one of those memorable events:

Santa Claus is always pressed into service for thousands of appearances right before Christmas. This can be very confusing, even for adults. How can he be at the mall, and passing by your house on a fire truck, and suddenly driving down the freeway in older-model silver Lexus?

I would like to share my experience. You see, I have accompanied “The Jolly One” on many of his gigs.

I am secretly married to Santa.

Thursday is an excellent example of life with Santa Claus. We started with prayer and coffee, though not in that order. Santa knows that once he leaves home, he might be the only example of God that some people see that day. He wouldn’t think of going out without first discussing it with the Real Boss.

The last thing Santa and I do before leaving is make sure we haven’t forgotten anything. Boots on? Glasses with current prescription? Clean white gloves? Is Santa’s belt snug without cutting off his circulation? Is my white pinafore tied correctly?

Like I said, Thursday is a perfect example. It was time to leave home and I couldn’t find my black hook-up boots. Or more precisely, I couldn’t find both of them. The right boot had absolutely disappeared. This did not make Santa exactly laugh “like a bowl full of jelly.” He never shows up late for anything. Santa grunted his displeasure and helped me look, until I decided that just once I could probably wear my brown lace-up boots.

Santa had been asked to attend a very special holiday party. Since the sleigh is still at the North Pole and we had plenty of time to get there, Santa decided to take the Lexus. I secretly think he really enjoys watching the expression on people’s faces when they see Santa Claus drive by with not a reindeer in sight.

Most of the ride, I fussed because that’s when I realized my pinafore was inside out and my brown boots weren’t in the same excellent condition as my Mrs. Santa-issue-black-boots. Where could that boot be?

That’s why I almost forgot something very important on that particular Thursday. Mrs. Claus needs to always be prepared to answer questions asked by extremely-inquisitive-children-under-the-age-of-five. They’ll go to Santa with their Christmas wishes. They come to me for the tough stuff.  

Shortly after we arrived at the party, Santa was joyfully ho-ho-ho-ing and giving candy canes to the children on his lap while he memorized their lists. An adorable little girl quickly had me in her crosshairs. She was at “that” age.

“How do you get back to the North Pole from here? You came in a car.”

I couldn’t remember the answer. Immediate freeze! “Telekinetic transport?” I asked hopefully.

She shook her head.

“Astral Projection?”

“No. That’s not it,” she informed me while her little eyebrows knit together. She knew I was stalling.

Then I remembered!

“Santa has an unlimited pass to fly Alaska airlines whenever and wherever he needs for the entire month of December.”

She smiled and nodded. I’d remembered rightly. But she wasn’t done with me… “Are you really Mrs. Claus?”

My turn to nod. “I am really Mrs. Claus. That man over there in the red suit is really my husband.”

She wasn’t convinced. “Are you wearing boots?”

I lifted my red velvet dress and inside-out pinafore, grateful that I hadn’t settled for black flats. Apparently boots are more important than I knew.

“OK,” she said. “You’re Mrs. Claus.” I was rewarded with a heartfelt hug.

Such skepticism among children is concerning to me. What ever happened to Christmas magic? Sometimes when I am thinking about life’s saddest mysteries I get hungry, so I got in line for the food. That was a really big mistake. In front of me was a mother with her little boy who apparently knew everything about Santa Claus and was intent on proving me to be a fraud.

"Are you really Mrs. Claus?" he asked accusingly, while staring at my less than perfect pinafore.

"Yes. I am married to Santa Claus. I am an expert on Santa Claus. What would you like to know?"  I was thinking, “He's young. I'm old. I can win this one.”  In retrospect I now know I was arrogant.

"What does Santa like to eat?"

"Steak. But only once a week. His cholesterol is a little high." Ha ha. I knew I had him on this one. Unfortunately, I had miscalculated his mother and the apple had not fallen far from the tree.

"Where does Santa buy his steaks?" the mother asked me in a deliberate stare down.

"Stewart's Meats just beyond the Roy Y in Yelm, Washington. They cut and freeze them special and ship them to the North Pole." That got the food line's attention diverted discussing butchers and drummed up some business for Stewart's. It didn't slow down the little boy.

"What do reindeer eat?"

"Hay and occasionally alfalfa, but alfalfa gives them gas so we cut them back for a couple days before Christmas because Santa objects when the reindeer pass gas while flying."  No one thought this was especially funny except me.

"What are the elves doing this time of year?"

"Elves used to make the toys by hand, but now most of you want high-tech toys, so elves are mostly involved in acquisition and sorting. It's a lot of work to keep track of everything and get it in the correct size, quantity and ready to go out in the right order. The elves are extremely busy this time of year. I'm sure you can understand if once in awhile they might make a mistake and you don't get the exact thing that is your first choice. They work very hard at it all, though."

He was persistent with the questions. "What about you and Santa? What do you do this time of year if the elves are doing all the work?"

Now I felt like he was calling me a grifter. "Santa and I are very busy with public appearances like this. We are handing out candy canes, taking pictures, reminding children to be good to their parents and generally reminding everyone to be kind and loving."

He wasn’t convinced. "I don't think you are really Mrs. Claus."

I'd had had just about enough. "And why is that? I answered all your questions truthfully. I am an expert on Santa. I even know how high his cholesterol is. I know all about the gastrointestinal tracts of reindeer and about the acquisition statistics of the elves. So why is it you don't think I am the real Mrs. Claus?"

The little boy looked me straight in the face, as honest as a child can be and said, "Because I think you colored your eyebrows white!"  And he walked off, ending our conversation.

Few people fully comprehend the challenges of my job description.

But I still had not fulfilled my mission… to find the Christmas spirit at our holiday party.  Fortunately everything was about to change.

Another little girl came bouncing up to me like an angel out of nowhere. She was six years old and clearly she didn't care at all about my eyebrows, pinafore, or my brown boots. We talked and she discovered that I have a passion for gingerbread cookies.

That dear child made decorating and feeding me cookies her mission for the remainder of the day. Snowmen! Stars! Shapes that I didn't even recognize, but each one made and delivered on little white napkin-clouds of love. Then she stood and watched while I groaned and ahhhed in delight and carefully ate each one. She squealed in glee just because she had brought so much joy to Mrs. Claus. 

At the end of the party when I asked her what her favorite part of the day was, I expected her to say the presents, or the games, or meeting Santa. But no. She said very solemnly, "Oh, it was feeding you all those cookies, Mrs. Claus, and making you laugh!" 

This dear child reminded me that we need to position ourselves to receive joy in addition to giving it. By opening wide our hearts (and sometimes even our mouths) to those around us, we teach our children that there is great happiness in reaching out and touching others. It is easy to find fault. But it is so much more fun to paint cookies and laugh together.

Santa and God have a great deal in common. They both understand the importance of spreading love, and they do it best by using ordinary people like you and like us.

Merry Christmas from Santa and me.

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