In a recent post, I reflected on my kids' developing logic brains, in particular regarding Santa. The parent of one of Grace's friends texted us after Grace told her daughter she didn't believe in Santa - she was, in her words, "pissed." It wasn't clear to me whether she was pissed at Grace, or us, or the situation, or what, nor what she was hoping to accomplish by telling us about it (she ended the text, "Do with that what you will"). Maybe she was just venting.
I remember a workshop I attended with Kit Miller, director emeritus of the Gandhi Institute for NonViolence, in which she said that usually when we feel angry, there is another emotion beneath it, and she encouraged us, next time we feel angry, to get curious about what might be underneath it. If I were in this mom's position, I would probably feel... sad and disappointed. Because these times when we see bits of our kids' childhood start to slip away, always feel a bit like grief. When we give away the board books and baby clothes, when they no longer need to hold our hand all the time, when a hug and a kiss can no longer heal their broken heart, and yes, when they start to question whether Santa is real... "Losing" those things is appropriate, of course, and a sign that they are growing and developing as they should. But it is still really stinking hard as a parent to say goodbye to that era. And I absolutely understand why this mom who texted us was upset, and told her as much. "I'm so sorry that happened," I said. "That must be so disappointing."
Several things this mom said have continued to bother me. While I certainly don't want or need to get into all of them, I wanted to comment here on one. She said, "If you guys choose to eliminate Christmas magic from your house, fine." I have been wrestling over the last week with this, and trying to figure out why I have allowed it to bother me so much. Maybe I do have some guilt, because we never entered fully into Santa magic - as I described in my previous post, my husband felt strongly that we focus on "the story of Santa," but be honest from the start that Santa is a story, not a real person. "I won't lie to my children," he said. While I think this was the right choice for us, I do harbor some sadness that my kids missed out on that magical part of childhood. (Though I do think they believed at first, despite our honesty! It's hard not to get swept up in it!)
But I think the reason I'm feeling resentful about her comment is that we have not chosen to eliminate Christmas magic from our house. My kids have experienced no lack of richness of both magic and mystery around Christmas, and none of it has required us to compromise on our being fully honest with them.
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| Clara and her Nutcracker |
2) The Nutcracker is magical. A cherished memory from when Grace was a ballerina-obsessed 3-year-old was when a friend gifted us tickets to the Nutcracker. Grace danced along with the Sugarplum Fairy in the aisle. The people in front of us were so charmed by her, they said, "Our daughter is one of the
ballerinas. Would you like to go and meet her?" While we were backstage, we also got to meet the Sugarplum Fairy herself. The picture we have of Grace's sweet little face is pure magic.
3) Generosity is magical. We recently went on a post-Christmas outing, and when we saw someone in need, we gave her a couple of bucks and one of the winter kits I keep in my car. The smile lit up the woman's face, and she offered us a blessing and expression of gratitude for another day of life. It was magical and meaningful for all of us. Seeing the kids get excited about all the gifts they want to give to their friends and family is magical. Witnessing their pride when we gush over their presents to us is magical.
4) Family time is magical. This week, after an exceptionally busy month for me (pastor!), we have hunkered down together, hardly leaving the house. We have played games, made crafts, and watched so many movies together, with no other agenda. We cuddle on the couch, a kid under each arm and a dog on my lap, and all the stress of the month has melted away. Isaac has come into our room each morning about 7:30 or 8, and climbs in to cuddle while I read my book. Eventually we make jokes and tickle and giggle and it is a magical way to start the day.
Of course to me, Christmas is not really about creating what I would call artificial magic - that is, the magic that is manufactured and fleeting, around a fun but mythical story. Christmas is really about mystery - in particular, the mystery of the incarnation. I know, some of the very people who devote all kinds of energy to making Santa magic do not believe in the mystery of the incarnation (this same mom made sure to tell me she was one of them).
But I will (and do) devote all the energy to celebrating this mystery, which is more lasting and soul-filling than Santa can ever provide. What is more "magical" than sharing candlelight with one another, gradually brightening a darkened sanctuary while a string quartet plays Silent Night, inviting us to join them? What is more "magical" than the grins and greetings of young adults home from college for the holiday, excited to be back at church with these friends? What is more "magical" than a normally stoic congregation so delighted by a rollicking rendition of Go Tell It On the Mountain, that they spontaneously burst into joyful applause?
I love magic. It's fun. But give me the mystery of the incarnation over manufactured Santa magic any day!
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