I’m A Believer

Yes, I’m a believer. At one point in my life I stopped, that was the time in between childhood and my grown up life. I suppose at that point it just wasn’t cool to believe, or maybe my brain had so many other issues associated with the growing up process that it just didn’t have the capacity to fire off that type of neurological synopsis.  Nowadays I look around and wonder how I could have missed it.  Santa Claus really and truly does exist.

As a little kid I totally believed in Santa – hands down no questions asked. Although in hindsight I now realize that the man generally visited our house at some rather odd hours. I vaguely remember a couple of years when my parents dropped my brothers and me off at our grandparents house on Christmas Eve where we’d play games, read stories, and anxiously await the arrival of Mr. Claus and his eight prancing reindeer.  My parents always had some place to go, and at some ambiguously prearranged time our grandparents would load us up in their old brown station wagon and tote us home. Of course Mom and Dad were already there and somehow, someway, Santa had come and gone.  Christmas morning didn’t come with Santa gifts, since we got those the night before. Instead, we played with our toys, watched the Christmas Parades on TV, and later in the day ate a huge dinner of Turkey and mashed potatoes.

And then there were the other years when we only opened family gifts on Christmas Eve, and Santa and his reindeer showed up while we slept all snuggled up in our beds.  Those nights I found it hard to go to drift off into dreamland. I desperately wanted to catch the chubby man in the red suit and pet all of his reindeer.  I just knew they were soft and cute and that they would love me and Santa would think I was the most adorable little girl in the world.  But, I never did see him or his four-legged friends. I did hear them on the roof one night (I swear I did!) and we always had presents from him in the morning along with stockings stuffed full of candy and assorted treats, but that was the extent of my contact.

Of course these days we all see Santa Claus everywhere we go once Thanksgiving is over.  He sometimes hangs out at the entrance to a major shopping store ringing a bell and shouting “Ho, Ho, Ho”, he’s inside the mall greeting young children in Toyland, he shows up at parties and parades and a whole slew of holiday events.  Pictures and replicas of our white bearded friend can be found in every store and in most advertisements.  Endless movies have been made with him as the star and songs that boast of Santa and his holiday cheer serenade us everywhere we go.

But none of that is the Santa I believe in, and really – it never was.  When I think back to my childhood fantasy, my faith had more to do with a belief in something good and accepting and unblemished by worldly chaos.  Santa and Mrs. Claus and the elves and the North Pole and Rudolph and all of the reindeer and the trees and decorations and lights – all of that has to do with faith.  About faith in each other and the goodness that resides within, and for me it’s about faith in God and faith in the birth of Christ.

As I work at home during the month of December among my ridiculously oversized Christmas tree (17.5 feet) and all of our decorations, or head off to the store to run errands or shop for Christmas presents, I can’t help but feel a twinge of hope and a bit of joy.  And I see the same in the faces of so many of those I meet.  Something about this time of year helps to bring down some of those defenses we work so hard to erect during the other eleven months. Sure there are the grinches and the grumps of the season, but mostly I run across people who are helping each other, people who are chatting and laughing idly as they wait in the check-out line, folks sharing shopping secrets and asking for an opinion excited to give a gift no matter how small. And more importantly I see children running around, if just for a moment, without a care in the world and with a twinkle in their eyes.  And that’s Santa.  So yes, I believe.  We have to, or at least I do.  And maybe this year I’ll catch him next to our tree and get the chance to pet his reindeer!

Merry Christmas.

My Alter Ego

Every once in a while the goofiest thing happens when I’m alone and left to the follies of my own imagination – I find that I am possessed with new and exciting talents as my alter ego consumes me. I turn into a much sought after speaker and book writer, occasionally I’m the great communicator and know just the right words for any and every situation, there are moments when I’m a champion Olympic skier, and most often I turn into this singer with an incredible voice and a fan club full of millions of groupies.

Most of my greatness occurs when I’m alone in the car, especially when my drive is longer than fifteen minutes – not unusual for where I live. And the talent of the moment is dependent upon my mood and my current life circumstances.  The writing and communicating and skiing usually are a result of a recent incident or an upcoming event. Especially if I’ve just sent my novel to a publisher, or I’ve got to sit down with someone and hash out a difficult problem. Or, on the flip side, my trip to excellence happens after I have tackled a tricky issue and I’m now obsessed with reviewing the conversation with the person and coming up with all of the great and motivating things I should have said.

But a good eighty percent of the time, my gift is not any of the above mentioned aptitudes.  Generally when I’m in the car the radio gets cranked as loud as possible without blowing out my eardrums, and my vocal cords strive to reach the same caliber as singers and bands such as ZZ Top, Big and Rich, Sugarland, and Alison Krauss.  I pay no attention whatsoever to whether or not I’m on key, instead I let the music fill me and I bellow the words to my heart’s content.

And I know I’m not alone in these bursts of stardom.  I can’t count the number of times I’ve pulled up to a stop light only to glimpse the man or woman next to me totally enwrapped in a concert of their own.  Smiles, tears, anger, love, heartache,… one of those emotions is often written all over the faces of my automotive neighbors as the song in their car is turning them into an amazing singer who can capture the hearts of the masses.

In many respects our alone time really should help us to increase our focus, boost our confidence, and even delve into our emotional and ever-so-

slightly irrational side where glory and adoration reside.  That’s the beauty of that time we spend by ourselves, no matter how we spend it. For me, and for many of my roadway buddies, it’s often all about the song.   And I say good for you and good for me – let the singing commence.

Now I gotta go – my car and my fan club await me.

Through the Eyes of a Child

Little kids honestly have to be the most incredible creatures on our planet.  Their innocence makes them the brightest, the least fearful and therefore  the most capable of achieving great things, and the only ones who are truly uninhibited. Of course that’s only the case until we older folks come along and taint these youngsters with our fears and anxieties, our low self-esteems, our anger, and our soiled lifestyles. If only we could reverse that, at least a little bit, and instead of giving them the cloak of negativity and shame, allow them to give us a more promising gift – one that views the world with awe and wonderment and unconditional love.

As the director of a school that taught preschool children on up through eighth grade I had the opportunity to get to know many little kids.  Nowadays I meet them and talk to these miniature adults through other venues, but no matter what, they always bring a smile to my face and cause me to adjust my view of the world, if only for a moment.

The other day my husband met and chatted with a young man, probably around the age of five.  The boy walked right up to him, introduced himself as Alex, and promptly asked my husband if he wanted to watch him “run as fast as lightning”. The child felt no shame, did not carry with him the worry that he wouldn’t be liked or accepted, and quite obviously had total confidence in his ability to run as quickly as a bolt of lightning.  It didn’t even occur to him that it is not possible for a human to move with that kind of speed.

And I can’t even count the number of times little girls have greeted me like I could have been their best friend in the whole world.  They take hold of my hand, they want to give me a hug and their baby eyes light up with such unrestrained animation and marvel that my heart takes a leap and I can’t help but wonder what I’ve missed.

The other day that very thing happened to me when a four year old girl twirled around in her dress and with complete confidence looked at me and announced, “Don’t I look pretty.” She did. She lit up the room with her enthusiasm and complete belief in her abilities and her looks. The world excited her along with everything in it. From herself to the people around her to the rising of the sun and her cute purple sundress, she looked at it all as though the sky was the limit. And yes, I wondered about all that I had been missing and why.

If only I could take hold of some of that innocence.  To view the world around us with the belief that we can achieve anything and that everything is beautiful and wonderful would not only change our perspective, but would also change the way we treat others and ourselves.

The next time you see a young child take a minute and really see that child. Then attempt to see their surroundings the way they do.  Study a spider web, examine a rock, look at yourself in the mirror or think about the skills you have; allow yourself to feel excited and proud.

We adults are supposed to set a good example for young children, but on the flip side I believe they also set a good example for us.  Don’t let the opportunity to accept that gift slip away.  Take it gracefully and use it wisely.  I’m going to try to do the same.