Christmas advent

I have a confession: I have never believed in Santa Claus. Never. Why, you ask? Because when my mom was a young girl, she felt like the biggest fool on the block when she found out Santa wasn't real. She thought the whole world was laughing at her for believing. And she didn't want to do that to her children because she loves us. Now that I am a mother, I have found that I can't lie to my children. I understand that a lot of really good parents can have their children believe in a very magical and wonderful Santa tradition. I'm not saying it's not okay; I'm just saying it's not what we do. And now you know why.

At our annual Rawlins Family Christmas Party with all my cousins, we always enjoyed a visit from Santa Claus. We knew he wasn't really Santa, because there is no such thing. But we greatly enjoyed his visits. He came in and sang carols with us and told jokes. He had us each sit on his lap, but it wasn't, "What do you want for Christmas, little girl?" It was, "Now last year, I remember you set out cookies for me but you forgot the carrots for the reindeer." Or, "I know you keep your room pretty clean, but under your bed WHOOAH! HO! HO! HO!" He always seemed to know just what to tease us about. How he knew our personal habits is beyond me. But I think he knew kids and teenagers well enough to guess. When an adult woman would go up for her turn (We all HAD to have a turn. Grandma's rules!), Santa would give her a hard time for hanging up a nylon stocking instead of a regular Christmas stocking. "You start filling those things and they just stretch and stretch and can never get full!"

Whenever a new person joined our family (boyfriends, fiances, etc.) the initiation was to wear reindeer antlers and dance around while everyone sang Jingle Bells. We had so much fun with our Santa. I can't really describe it here. Apparently, when my grandma died, Santa came to the funeral in his civies. (I was on my mission and missed the funeral.) He knew all the cousins, but they didn't know him.

Are you getting my point here? The same Santa came to our Christmas parties every year from the late 1970's until 2002. Yes, I remember the last party we had with our Santa. Let me tell you that story.

My daughter, Sarah, was born in October of 2002. I loved Sarah. She was an easy baby. But her delivery left me with a very painful recovery. A combination of not feeling well (lots of pain!) and taking some painkillers that had emotional side effects and postpartum depression left me pretty down. It technically wasn't a proper postpartum depression, it was what they call "baby blues." But the point is, I was down. I couldn't get into Christmas that year. I was just down. Then I went to our Rawlins Family Party. Santa was there. It was his last Christmas with us, as he and his wife were planning to leave on a mission. It was a sentimental time for our whole family. Santa stayed a very long time. He took photos with all of us. We asked him how long he had been coming and he sat and reminisced about Christmases past. And then we presented him with a little Santa doll--you know, one for display. We had a badge on the Santa that said "Future Missionary." It was a great party.

And I can't really explain what happened. But Santa snapped me out of my depression. The baby blues were just gone. Gone. He instilled in me the Christmas spirit. I was able to go home from that party and pull together a good Christmas for my little family. I even sent out Christmas cards and Christmas letters. They were late...but I sent them!

Our Santa left on his mission a couple of months later. He wasn't able to serve for very long. He passed away before the next Christmas. It may seem like a silly job to be a Santa, but this is a man (whose real name is still a mystery to me) who brought a little light and fun to our family. It is a true service. Maybe I do believe in Santa.

Most of my photos are in storage, but I found this one (not a great photo) of the last Christmas party.