Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts.
~ Janice Maeditere
It’s funny how memories sneak up on you, isn’t it? One minute, I’m trying to power through my holiday and end-of-year to-do list, wondering if I’ll π¦π·π¦π³ get into the spirit this year, and the next, I’m completely derailed, thinking about my Grandpa Harvey and how he made Christmas pure magic.
We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, but we didn’t feel the lack because our lives were overflowing with love. For years, I was the only grandchild (until my sister came along), surrounded by the best kind of village: my parents, four incredible grandparents, three of the most fun uncles you can imagine, and eight - yes, EIGHT - great-grandparents.
Our little sod house may have been tiny, but it was always filled to the brim with love and laughter. Every holiday was a big deal, but Christmas? Christmas was πππππ πππππ!
Every year, after church on Christmas Eve, Santa himself would show up at our front door. And y’all, we π£π¦ππͺπ¦π·π¦π₯! There wasn’t a doubt in our minds that Santa had made a pit stop at our house before heading off to deliver presents to the rest of the world. He’d bring gifts and sit down with us, asking how we’d been good that year and what behaviors we were going to work on improving in the year ahead.
And do you know what? We π―π¦π·π¦π³ figured out it was Grandpa under that suit. Looking back, it was absolutely Clark Kent-level genius. My siblings and I truly thought Santa had a personal connection with us, and it made every Christmas magical.
We lost Grandpa just a few days before Christmas when I was in high school, and not a year has gone by when I don’t think about him, especially during the holidays. This year, though, I’ve found myself struggling to get into the holiday spirit. Life’s been hectic, and the magic has felt a little harder to find than normal.
Then, while going through some old keepsakes, I came across a letter I’d written years ago while visiting my uncle and cousin in Alaska. It was a letter from “Santa” that I’d mailed to myself from the North Pole - proof, I thought, of my direct line to The Claus.
At the time, I wrote it thinking I’d use it someday for my own kids, to show them their mom had Santa on speed dial. Life turned out differently, though. While I have the most amazing step-kids in the world, my Santa years were cut short because I didn’t have little ones of my own. (That’s a story for another day.) So the letter sat tucked away, forgotten, until now.
And suddenly, I had an idea.
What if I could be Santa for someone else?
I put the offer out there to some of the moms in my neighborhood - what if I wrote THEM letters from Santa? The response was incredible. In no time, I had over 30 mamas reaching out, excited for this little slice of magic to surprise their kids...and maybe subtly remind them who's in charge this holiday season.
Over the past few days, I’ve been knee-deep in Santa stationery, writing letters that I hope will make kids’ eyes light up. And you know what? It’s completely changed my mood. Those letters brought the holiday magic back for ππ.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Grandpa Harvey, God rest his soul, played a part in all of this - nudging me toward the reminder that the best way to find the holiday spirit is to πππ«π it. I can’t wait to hear how these letters spark a little extra Christmas cheer for these families.
So, what about you? What holiday traditions from your childhood help you find the magic of the season? I’d love to hear about them. And if you’re feeling a little stuck this year, like I was, maybe try sprinkling a little extra kindness somewhere. You never know whose season you might save - including your own.
