Now YOU are part of the magic of Santa

"Mommy, tell me the truth...do you fill the stockings and leave out presents?"

I had anticipated its arrival, had managed to skirt around it over Christmas. But, this time, the flight of my ten year old's question flew through still air, in the quiet room, landing... a direct hit... eye to eye, child to mother.

"Do you really want to know?" I asked. My son nodded, eyes pinning mine for a second then looking away. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. And, so I told him, as my mother told me all those years ago, when I asked her. "Yes, sweetie, it IS us."

Emotions washed across his face in quick succession...relief, surprise, and something that looked like...regret.

" Does that make you sad?" I asked softy.

"Maybe...a little. But, I STILL believe in Santa," said my son, King of Magical Thinking.

"We all believe in the magic of Santa," I said.  "Did kids tell you at school?"

He nodded. 

"I remember when a kid told me at school and I came home and asked Ma'Mai if it was true. She told me and I cried." He nodded in sympathy, his big blue eyes round as marbles.

"You mean you bought that keyboard?" he asked.

"Dad did."

"Are we BROKE?! he exclaimed. "Because, that cost A LOT of money!"

Then... not quite ready to acknowledge the inevitability, he said "But, what about the hand print on the letter that Santa left?"

 I whispered... "It's the magic. Think about all of the people for generations who have believed in Santa. Now you are part of the magic of Santa. You are entrusted with this spirit of Santa and must not reveal the magic to other children." A tall order for a child with impulse control, yet I think he is ready.

"Did you know that when Daddy was a little boy, he came downstairs on Christmas morning and there were foot prints coming out of the fireplace?" I asked.

Reflecting aloud he said, "Well, they probably stepped in there and stomped around."

I smiled and raised my eyebrows.

"I STILL believe in Santa. There really IS a Santa," he said with earnestness. And we moved on...

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Having a better life is not necessarily... an easier life

On the evening of the 30th, as I was out walking with my daughter and looked up, I saw a shooting star streak across the night sky. It was my first experience, and it was breathtaking. It was an invitation to be present.  It happened so fast, if I hadn't been looking up in that moment...I would have missed it. The New Year has brought hope with it - for a more creatively productive year, prioritizing quality time with family, and a desire to be healthy in mind, body and spirit.

I started walking a few months ago. Inspired by my sister-n-law, who has been walking for a few years, it has become time carved out for me. Whether listening to NPR's The Ted Radio Hour or The Story or This American Life, the stories inspire and energize me, and I traverse for greater distances than I first imagined. With my headphones on, I am in my own insular, intellectually stimulating bubble...without interruptions. For a mother, this IS sacred space. What started as a "should do," has evolved into a "have to do" for my own personal sanity. It has become much more than a routine, but a way of being that is necessary and natural. I love the feel of my muscles connecting- the rhythm and cadence of moving my own body forward ...heel to toe, heel to toe.

I don't remember a time in recent past where I've been so ready to shed the previous year and all the baggage it contained. I still struggle with the concept that life is challenging, that this is normal, and that it will continue to be so for the rest of my life. I have spent much of my life longing for some kind of end to witnessing and feeling pain. The rigors and whip lash effects of daily life have made me yearn for  life to go down a little easier, like butter on toast- often looking ahead or back with a repetitive WHAT IF???...That if my life was more together, it would morph into a steady happiness. But, that kind of life would be mind numbing and ruinous. Wouldn't it?

Having a better life is not necessarily an easier life. More choices, more unknowns - more knowns and more expectations. To use walking as an analogy, I debate within myself whether having a destination is essential to our being. As I learn and grow on this path called life, I believe it is vital to have a destination that leads to another and another. The act of walking has opened me up in ways I had not imagined. And, with it has come the realization that the end goal can be to circle back home...

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