Christmas is going to be very different for us this year, because Santa won’t be coming to our house.

It was inevitable, I know.  I already had that feeling last year, the feeling that it was going to end soon.  The doubts were creeping in for Shannon.  And by the time Spring came around, I knew for sure that it was over.  But I kept saying, “If you don’t believe, you won’t receive!”,  just to keep my dream alive.

Alas, like most of my dreams, it is dead.

So, yes, this Christmas will be different.  There will be no forcing the girls to get to bed early, so that Santa can come before he drinks too much cheer to remember where the hell the presents are hidden.  There will be no waking up at 4:30am with a hangover, stumbling around to find the camera in the dark, and running down the stairs, just to capture the look on their faces as they see the presents for the first time.   Nope. No more of that.

The presents are already under the tree. Just sitting there. Not hidden away in closets, in the basement, in the attic, in the garage, at my mom’s house.  They are all out there in the open. Just like the ugly truth. We don’t even talk about Santa any more. Now he’s referred to as “The Big Lie Mommy Told Us, Right Maggie?”!

Gone is the magic, the hopefulness, the wonder, and the faith in Mommy, apparently.

Time passes, children grow, and things change.  Fighting the passage of time is harder than fighting the tide, and I’m not a strong swimmer.  So I roll with it.  I resigned myself to a Christmas without magic. Sigh.

Or maybe not.

Today I taught yoga to a bunch of 5 and 6 year-old yogis. It was our last class before the winter break.   When I walked into the building I could feel the energy. The excitement was palpable.  The whole building was buzzing. It was electric.  In every classroom I was greeted with phrases like “Christmas is next week!” and “Miss Kim, Miss Kim, Look where the Elf is today!”   and  “I asked for a puppy!”  and “My abuela is coming to visit!”.

I sat on the floor at the end of each class surrounded by a circle of children. We passed around the tingsha bells and we each made two silent New Year’s wishes. One wish was for ourselves, and one wish for someone else in the world.  As they wished (not so silently), I could hear the magic in their voices. I could see the wonder in their faces.  I could feel the energy of their belief.

There were some moments today when I was overwhelmed almost to the point of tears.  Those moments cannot be taken for granted. They remind me of the wonder in my life.  The fact that I get to do something I love, something I am passionate about, every day of my life, continues to fill me with wonder.

The fact that I get to spend time with these tiny little humans who restore my faith in humanity time and time again, is pure magic. They keep my heart filled with hope.

The other night a friend of mine sent me a message.  She works at a non-profit clinic, and every year at their holiday party the staff (mostly volunteers) does something for charity.  This year they “adopted’ two patients who have had a very difficult time. One is a mother of 3 who can’t put food on the table for her kids, and the other is an older homeless woman who finally found a place to call home.  Everyone was asked to bring something small and inexpensive for one of the patients, so they could make a gift for them, and brighten their holidays a bit.  She said that the number of items that poured in was “over the top crazy”.  Most of the volunteers donated things for both patients because they couldn’t choose one. Home goods, gift cards, even cash.

There is magic in that.  Wonder. Hope.

There is also a magic in the fact that she has been able to follow her own passion and find a career in it.  Sure, she’s barely making enough money to get by, but having our faith in humanity restored at every turn is priceless. Priceless!

Even though my girls no longer believe in Santa, I know we’ll still find magic this season.  We just have to look a little deeper for it now.   We just have to find it in other things.  If we keep our eyes open, we will find it everywhere; in our words and in our deeds, in our faces and in our hearts.

Where will you find the magic of the season?   Will you see the magic in the children in your life?  The magic in an act of charity or kindness?  The magic in a loved one’s laughter?  The magic in the starry, night sky?

Where will your faith lie this season?   Will you find faith in the Universe?  Faith in the miracles of your ancestors?  Faith in a Swaddled Babe?  Or a Red-nosed Reindeer? Faith in the Fat Man in the suit?

Will you find faith in humanity? Can you find faith in yourself?  The magic in yourself?

I hope you find the magic in yourself this season and share it with others.    It’s in there. Believe me.

We only have to believe it to receive it.

 

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And I bet you can guess the earworm for this one.  It’s from way back when I believed “The Big Lie My Parents Told”.

 

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