What Sarabi shared about Santa Claus

Mom's still snorfeling and barking so I decided to do something nice for her and help HER out, for today anyway. Sarabi sent me this really nice story about Santa Claus and what he stands for. I hope you like it. I thinks it's a really true story.

Christmas Spirit

I remember my first Christmas adventure with
Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing
across town on my bike to visit her on the day
my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no
Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know
that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had
been. I fled to her that day because I knew she
would be straight with me. I knew Grandma
always told the truth, and I knew that the truth
always went down a whole lot easier when
swallowed with one of her "world-famous"
cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous,
because Grandma said so.

It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still
warm. Between bites, I told her everything.
She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?"
She snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it.
That rumor has been going around for years,
and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put
on your coat, and let's go."

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't
even finished my second world-famous
cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General
Store, the one store in town that had a little
bit of just about everything. As we walked
through its doors, Grandma handed me ten
dollars.

That was a bundle in those days. "Take this
money," she said, "and buy something for
someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in
the car. "Then she turned and walked out of
Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone
shopping with my mother, but never had I
shopped for anything all by myself.

The store seemed big and crowded, full of
people scrambling to finish their Christmas
shopping. For a few moments I just stood
there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar
bill, wondering what to buy, and who on
earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody
I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors,
the kids at school, and the people who went
to my church.

I was just about thought out, when I
suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was
a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and
he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's
second grade class.

Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew
that because he never went out to recess
during the winter. His mother always wrote
a note, telling the teacher that he had a
cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby
Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have
a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill
with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby
Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a
hood to it. It looked real warm, and he
would like that.

"Is this a Christmas present for someone?"
the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as
I laid my ten dollars down.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It 's for
Bobby."

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her
about how Bobby really needed a good winter
coat. I didn't get any change, but she put
the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished
me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the
coat in Christmas paper and ribbons and
wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it(a
little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma
tucked it in her Bible). Grandma said that
Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she
drove me over to Bobby Decker's house,
explaining as we went that I was now and
forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from
Bobby's house, and she and I crept
noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his
front walk.

Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right,
Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front
door, threw the present down on his step,
pounded his door and flew back to the
safety of the bushes and Grandma.

Together we waited breathlessly in the
darkness for the front door to open. Finally
it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of
those moments spent shivering, beside my
Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes.

That night, I realized that those awful
rumors about Santa Claus were just what
Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa
was alive and well, and we were on his team.
I still have the Bible, with the coat tag
tucked inside: $19.95.

May you always have LOVE to share. And
may you always believe in the magic of
Santa Claus

Love, Mary-Margaret