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Santa Moments

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I have been given the golden opportunity to play Santa for others. I have the full costume, the padding (all mine), white hair, and white beard (also all mine). I get stopped by kids and families often when I wear red out in public during this time of year. It has created many opportunities to see families at work, creating memories, and playing with the most fun aspects of the seasonal mythology. I am just the stage prop for pictures with the opportunity to engage and watch.

One five year old joined me at the chair. I asked if she was on the naughty or nice list. She assured me, in the most convincingly sincere manner, that she was on the “nice” list before shooting her father the unmissable silent command to back her up. He responded with a silent, but clear facial signal, that she was safe because he had her back. Santa would not get any evidence or comments to the contrary. They were great!

Sometimes being Santa is like watching a taffy machine working the candy to the precise perfection needed. Families come in pulling on each other from every direction: loving, being loved, needing help, sharing forgiveness in as many directions as it is being required by self and others. They manifest all the push and pull of loving well and not so well to terribly. They are processing life together in a way that shows the many levels and dimensions in the struggle to love, be loved, and be lovable. They are simultaneously making mistakes and learning to repair or deal with them.

They are actively engaged in the process of being family and showing how intimate and necessary the process is for life. It is miraculous and unique in each family. People miss all the finely tuned moments of life by only measuring love in the big moments when it is the brass band instead of when it is the breeze in the tree tops or the rustle of leaves on the ground. I see God in all these small, messy relationship connections that build a family into viable and critically important unit of personal and community life.

It is truly a life resource that is under attack and in constant need of protection. Christmas is a time where great healing and unity is possible for those who believe and pursue God in their daily lives.

Thankfulness

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Recently, we went to a resort in Orlando and had several surprise experiences related to thankfulness. Here is an interesting example.

It was late. We were tired. We had spent the day getting in enough steps to clear our walk calendar for a week or more. The best choice for food was the restaurant closest to the room. It was an excellent restaurant in the resort where we stayed.

We were greeted by the hostess in whom my daughter confided all her food allergies in the hope she could find something to eat. Her allergies are rough and could easily cause a trip to the hospital. Our waiter arrived with the written list in hand and coached her through the menu, checking with the chef over any questions. It was one of the most relaxing meals in a long time.

The next morning we went back for breakfast. It was the same level of care and more. My daughter picked up something from the buffet that might be dangerous. Our waiter spotted it while passing by, told her, took her plate, replaced all that she had that was within the restraints, and went about his business as though it was nothing. We were stunned.

I called for the manager, and watched my waiter’s eyes show horror and anxiety, so I called him over to hear. I paid them the compliments they were due regarding the care and conscientiousness we were shown.

Here is the surprise. All were ready for a complaint and were geared for it. You could see the shift in the body language and the focus to bear up to the inevitable. You could see them inwardly searching for a way to make peace and make right. They had stiffened as for an assault. They were shocked and were completely unprepared for compliments and appreciation. They began to scramble as though they were in unfamiliar territory. I was as surprised as they because their care seemed to be normal to their operation.

The same thing happened at check out. I wanted the resort to know about the service of one of their restaurants. The scene was repeated, gearing for an assault and complete unreadiness for a compliment.

The moment challenged me because I live in a society in which complaint is the norm and gratitude is not. I was excited to have surprised them with joy and reflective to consider how many times I take others for granted and fail to recognize their efforts on my behalf. I must study the implications of 1 Thessalonians 5:15 and 18 which say, “15. See that no one repays anyone evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to everyone. 18. give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” Eastern Standard Version.

I will not run away.

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My father was afraid of snakes, terribly afraid. A grass snake would cross in front of his push mower, and he would be in the air taking his first running steps before he hit the ground, calling for someone to come kill it. I do not know why snakes held such a special place in his life because he was a courageous man in all other ways. It was just the snake, any snake. So, as a small boy, I decided to love snakes and would catch them at every opportunity.

There was a day that I caught a great snake about two feet long. I was eight to ten years old at the time. I went to the open, screened window and called for dad, holding the snake behind my back and out of sight. He placed his face near the screen and asked what I wanted. I pulled the snake out in full view and watched my dad leap backwards, turning over a favorite chair and taking out a lamp.

I knew I was dead. My sense of humor was now going to cost me more than I could pay. I knew better. I do not remember what happened as a result of my mean prank. I do remember standing in the yard for what seemed like days holding the snake as my only hope of safety. Dad would not discipline me, or come near me as long as I held the snake.

Mom would occasionally open the back door and ask if I was ready to come inside. I was too afraid to let go and too afraid to run away. No matter what I’d done, I belonged to my dad, and there was nowhere else I could go or would belong. So I stood, locked, with the snake. Eventually I must have put it down and gone in because I’m not still standing there, holding a snake.

I should know better by now, just put the snake down and face the music. I know that discipline is a good thing and the right thing to keep me from harm, especially in the hands of God. Knowing that makes me wonder why holding a snake seems so attractive.