Is that Santa real? - Part II

As confused as Daelyn is about Santa, his brother and sister are just that sure about the big guy. Several years ago, while driving to Kroger in October, I was stopped at a light and glanced in the rearview mirror. In the vehicle directly behind me was a man with a huge white beard and white hair. I shouted to the kids to turn around and look and commented that the man looked just like Santa. We pulled into the parking lot and I noticed he pulled in, as well. As we were getting out of the van, I saw him jump out of his vehicle which I had not gotten a good look at through the mirror. He was driving a small red pick-up truck. The children quickly noticed he was wearing a red thermal shirt under blue denim overalls. By the time we all had seatbelts undone and the children were deposited in a double buggy, he was nowhere to be seen. Deanna and Dane had both decided they were going to ask him if he was the real Santa if we saw him in the store.

We entered Kroger and I headed for the Produce Department. The kids almost fell out of the buggy craning their necks to look for the white-bearded man, so I decided we better find him before trying to shop. We went up and down the aisles looking and ran into a friend of ours from church. I told her what we were doing and she said she’d help us look. We headed down two more aisles and spotted him at the Bank. He was sitting at a window with personal items spread out in front of him, talking with a bank employee. I hesitated. He was obviously busy. My friend patted my arm and told me to stay with the kids while she went over to talk to him.

Several minutes later, he approached us. The children gawked. He smiled and said, “Was there something you’d like to ask me?” Deanna, who never runs out of things to say, sat speechless (a real Christmas miracle). Dane, my quiet shy child, finally spoke up and asked the man, “Are you the REAL Santa?”

“Yes, I am,” the man responded. “This is what I wear when I’m working. Now, tell me what you’d like for Christmas.” Deanna’s mouth dropped open even more and there was now no hope at all of getting anything out of her. Dane chimed in with his list. I kept prompting Deanna and, finally, she blurted out an item she’d like from Santa. He responded, smiled at the children, I thanked him, and he went back to the bank desk. I pushed the buggy a little ways away and started to cry.

You see, I believe in Santa. Santa gives gifts simply to bring joy to others, never really expecting a thank-you. It is enough to know the joy that his gift-giving brings. He is unconditional love and a personification of my Lord. My children have developed their own theology about Santa. They have decided he was appointed by God to do His work on earth - sort of a special earthly angel, with powers given by God which allow him to finish his tasks every year before Christmas morning. After all, only God could do that, right? So God must help Santa.

Last year, my oldest nephew (the first grandchild) was being married in southern California. Don and I decided to attend the wedding. We traded our time-share in Hilton Head for a place in Anaheim the week after the wedding. We were able to get First Class tickets for the two older children and he and I with frequent flyer miles, so the whole family flew for free.

The resort we were staying at in Anaheim offered breakfast poolside each morning. One morning, I was looking out our living room window to see how crowded the pool area was. I saw a hefty man with white hair and a full beard, wearing red bermuda shorts and a red Hawaiian shirt, walk around the pool and up to a little girl. He pulled something out of a breast pocket and began writing. I stood gasping. I yelled to the children and my sister and niece, who were staying with us, that Santa was at the pool. They ran to the window and spotted him (not too difficult to pick out of a crowd). The children asked me what he was doing and I excitedly told them about what I thought must be his “list”. I saw him pull something out of his pocket and write on it while talking with the little girl. What else could it be?

We quickly donned shoes and headed for the pool. Through the doors to the Activity Building, where breakfast was being served, we could see him and an older, gray-haired woman eating. We walked in but, once again, the children lost their nerve. They hid behind my legs like toddlers and refused to approach him. He spotted them and called them to him. He asked them what they wanted for Christmas, chatted with us, then pulled a picture of him and Mrs. Claus from his breast pocket and autographed one for each of the children. The kids grabbed muffins and juice and headed out to the pool with my sister. I sat down with Santa and Mrs.

I was attempting to explain some of the things the children had said, and I told them that we had run into Santa 1 1/2 years earlier in a Grocery Store. He smiled and said, “Yes. Kroger.” I looked puzzled and said, “How did you know that?” trying to recall if one of the children had mentioned Kroger. He said, “What city was this in?” “Augusta, Georgia,” I responded. “Why?” He smiled at me and said, “That was me!”

No way. Can’t be. Augusta, Georgia to Anaheim, California. Just not possible. “Were you driving a red truck?” I asked skeptically. “I did drive a red truck when I was in Augusta,” he said.

I sat staring at him, silent myself for a change. He smiled.

“You see,” he said, “the Mrs. and I recently moved from Augusta to New York. I’ve been hired by one of the big stores on 5th Avenue. They pick me up in a limo each morning and bring me home by limo at night. I work from Thanksgiving through Christmas and make enough that I don’t have to work the rest of the year. But we’re worn out by the New Year so we always take a 3-month vacation after the season. We love coming to California - not tropical but warm and there’s always lots to do here.”

When I finally recovered my voice, we had a lovely chat. In the back of my mind was the Santa Clause 2 video Don bought the kids the previous Christmas. At the end of the movie, Tim Allen (who plays Santa) has just married and is flying off to deliver presents. He tells his new wife to pack because as soon as he returns, they’ll be going on a 3-month vacation. He says, “Someplace warm, but nothing tropical. You don’t want to see this (pointing at belly) in a Speedo.” No, just red bermudas and a red Hawaiian shirt.

The next day, Don, the kids, and I were driving into L.A. While Don negotiated the carpool lane at 80 mph (you have no idea how unusual this is for Don, who refuses to even go 56 mph at home), I was chatting about places we should go and see.

“Santa said we should try and fit in the Crystal Palace. He said it’s beautiful, all glass, and a real functioning church. They have services on Sunday and the church has big glass doors to the side of the altar that open into the parking lot that they prop open during the service, so people can drive up and don’t even have to get out of their cars. They’re trying to reach even people afraid to step foot into a church by providing sort of a drive-in service. He said we really should try and see it while we’re here - it’s a beautiful testament to the Lord and Missions.”

“The Crystal Palace, hmh?” Don responded. “Sounds interesting. Wait just a minute. You and WHO were talking about this? WHO told you about the Crystal Palace?”

“Santa,” I replied, smugly. “Not only are we on a first-name basis, we also have begun exchanging vacation tips.”

When other children try to tell Deanna there’s no Santa, she just smiles and nods. She knows him personally.