Believe in Santa Claus

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" cinnamon buns. I knew they  were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma  was home, and the buns 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 Kerby's General Store, the one store in town  that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its  doors, Grandma handed me ten 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 of Kerby's.

I  was only eight 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  ten-dollar 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, the people who went to my church. I was just about  thinking out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with  bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's  grade-two class.

Bobby Decker  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 all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a  cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar 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 really  warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?"  the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars  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 (a little tag fell out of the  coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) 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 Decker'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 door 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.

Fifty  years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering,  beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker'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.

I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

May  you always have love to share, health to spare and friends that  care.  And may you never be too grown up to search the skies on Christmas Eve!

This story was copied from another source.  The only line I added was the last one.  

Thank you to all the many  Santa Clauses living in The Gallery!  You have made this a special place.

Sincerely,

Gloria