Santa

First, I stopped keeping track of my consecutive days without caffeine and of exercising. I have successfully, after two months straight, kicked caffeine. And I am going to keep exercising but do it as training for a succession of 5k races. I'm going to join up with WW again in Elko, I think.

Next, I was Santa at the church Christmas last night. We had dinner, then Santa appeared, and then after that a Nativity scene and production by the children. It was very well done.

The Santa thing went well, with me only having to threaten three older boys for wanting to shout out who I really was. One four year old, Phillip, who looks seven and is my high five friend, knew who I was and kept trying to say my real name. I kept interrupting him and asking him questions like this:

"You're Broth-"
"So, Phillip, have you been a good boy this year?"
"Yes, but you're Broth-"
"Why have you been a good boy?"
"Because I helped my dad. But you're Brothe-"
"How did you help your dad?"
"I cleaned my room. You're Brother B-"
"Well that was VERY good of you. Are you going to keep being a good boy this Christmas so I can come visit you?"
"Yes, but you're Brother Bo-"
"OOOOOKAAAAYYYYY, thank you, Phillip. Here's a nice little bag of goodies for you for being such a good boy. Merry Christmas and oh there's your dad. Bye, Phillip."
"Bye, but you're Brothe- dad that's Brothe-"
"Phillip, come here. What did Santa give you?"
"Some candy but dad that's Brother Boyd [voice fades as he's dragged off to the other end of the gym]"
"Well, maybe Brother Boyd is one of Santa's helpers."
"No, dad, it's just Brother Boyd."

Later Phillip came up to me in my street clothes, four year old Phillip, and wagged his finger in my face and said, "You need to disguise your voice better if you want people to think you're Santa."

He's getting a lump of coal this year.

The kids were all great, only one cried but he still accepted the free candy like a good little boy.

But the thing that touched my heart was this. A boy who could not talk very well and who I didn't know, came and jumped on my knee. He was a bit older and was a friend of some members of the church. He looked at me with the most innocent eyes and said, "Santa, I still believe in you." I gave him a hug and asked him about the true meaning of Christmas and that I [Santa] really believed in Jesus and that HE was the real meaning of Christmas. We had a nice little chat and he was very excited to get the bag of goodies.

But the one that BROKE my heart was this. Another older boy, climbed on my knee. I did not know him, either, as he was a friend of church members. I asked him whether he had been a good boy and he nodded and had these wide innocent, awestruck eyes like, "I am sitting on Santa's lap. I love Santa." He was eight years old. He said, "I have been a very good boy, Santa." I have never believed in such a truth as I have about that boy. THAT was a very good boy. I knew it. Then he said, "My dad is in jail because he took drugs." My heart snapped in two. I could feel it, and I'm sure that even over the pandemonium in the gym, everyone must have heard it, too. I did not know what to say to him as he was on the verge of tears. I pulled him close to me and put my arm around him and looked him in the eyes. Then I said, "Sometimes when people go to jail, they learn to be good. Sometimes it helps them be good boys, too." Then he nodded and his tears went away a little. Then I said, "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll pray to God to ask him to bless you and your dad and your family that everything will be good. Is that okay?"

Then he nodded and stared at me with those big eyes and then grabbed my neck and leaned into my neck and we just sat there for a moment and the whole world stopped and all the noise went away. After a bit, he released me and I gave him a bag of candy and patted him on the back again and he ran off.

After I got back into my street clothes, I saw him and tried to ask him if he had seen Santa. He nodded but didn't really want to talk to this stranger. Brother Boyd was a stranger but Santa was real.

The Savior is real. But he serves us quietly and anonymously, even today. We have no idea what he does for us as our Advocate with the Father. He prays for us, and takes care of us and gives us bags of candy and hugs us and lets us sit on his lap and makes us feel loved. He lived, died, and rose again without very many people knowing what happened or caring, if they did know.

We need to be more like these two boys: really believe, and care about each other to the point of tears.

Merry Christmas to you.