There comes a time that every child questions the validity of Santa Claus. There are some children who enjoy being “in the know” and declaring that Santa is not real. Personally I have always believed in Santa Claus….I cry whenever Santa comes to Mass to pray over baby Jesus in the manger. My friend shared this story of Grandma and Santa Claus at our book club read-aloud. I was so moved I decided to share it with you. The author is unknown.
“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 Christmas cookies. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true. Grandma was home, and the cookies 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 the general store, this is the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me 10 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.
“I was only 9 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 $10 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. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in my grade 4 class. Bobby 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 we all knew that Bobby didn’t have a cough; he had no good coat. I fingered the $10 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 $10 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. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby’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 doorbell 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. He smiled and picked up his gift from Santa and went inside.
“Fifty years haven’t dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering beside my Grandma, in Bobby’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.” Santa Claus is anyone who loves another and seeks to make them happy. Anyone who lives his life throughout the entire year in the Christmas spirit.
~ Edwin Osgood Grover
Taste of Home columnist Sandy (Anderson) Holthaus lives on a farm in South Haven, MN with her husband, Michael, and their children Zoe, Jack and Ben. Her heart remains on the North Shore where she grew up with her parents, Art and LaVonne Anderson of Schroeder. She enjoys writing about her childhood and mixes memories with delicious helpings of home-style recipes.
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