Is Santa Claus Real ?

[T.A. WORKMAN]

A friend emailed this and it is too good not to share... and to get us in the Christmas Spirit

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 thought 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 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 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 ofSanta'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.

Terry

 

[Shotgungibbs]

Terry, thank you for reminding us what giving is really all about!
Hope your family has a wonderful Christmas,
Jay "Shotgungibbs" Prather

 

[stevemb]

Ok, a kleenex might be needed warning might'a been nice !

 

[TRanger]

God bless you, Mr. Workman.

 

[Viking Queen]

That was lovely. Grandma sure knew how to instill "Christmas" spirit" in a young boy. I think I would have liked her, a lot!

I have goosebumps all over from reading that story.

Thank you for sharing it.

Viking Queen

 

[4kdave]

Wonderful story, and I know there is a Santa Clause because I too have helped him !!!

 

[Colonialgirl]

Yesterday AS I arrived at my Chiropractor's office, I found her unloading bags of toys from the trunk of her auto and a big strong gentleman moving them into a SUV. Later in the treatment room, she explained that she was a participant and donor in a group that obtais toys for underprivileged children. The Welfare manager at the various schools select the children/families they know will not have a Christmas and submit letters from the childrena bout what toys they wish Santa would bring them. The letters are copied (MINUS LAST NAMES) and posted in various stores and shopping malls where people can take a letter and shop for the toys listed. These are deposited at a "pickup point and then transported to various fire stations and police departments where they are wrapped and name tags added. Toys are bought for ALL the children in the family. Then on Christmas Eve, the Firemen and policemen in UNIFORM deliver the toys with a knock at the door and identify themselves as "Santa's Helpers". She said she knew of one family where the Grandmother was caring for FOUR children because BOTH parents were in Prison for crimes they had committed and Granny didn't have any money for toys or Christmas. She said that she also donates money to the group every year to help defray any expenses.

 

[MYBABYISA44MAG]

There were no better Christmas's past than those spent giving instead of receiving...my kids and I were blessed by the times we spent helping those who needed help...food, clothing, toys, or just some handiman work....I am blessed for those memories.

 

[Mobuck]

Maybe I got snookered today but I really don't care. I went to town to get a replacement sausage stuffer. In the check out line the older lady ahead of me had 4 items (2 pairs each of socks and gloves). She seemed distressed when the check out person gave her the total and rifled through her little coin purse and coat pockets a second time. I'd heard her tell the clerk these were Christmas gifts for her Grandsons and was thinking to myself how to make this situation come out OK when I caught the clerk's eye.
The lady said she'd just have to give one boy gloves and one socks but the clerk told the lady that the gloves just went on sale and she had just enough to get both gloves and socks. My stuffer cost an extra $10 but hey, I had it (it hasn't always been that way) and I bummed lunch at Tom's house so I'm OK with the deal. Santa Claus comes in many shapes and sizes and doesn't always fly in a sleigh.

 

[olcop]

In one of my past lives, I managed rental property for a real estate company in Florida.
In the worst property I managed, lived the best tenants I ever had, it was a small family of three, they never missed or were even late on the rental payment, and they never complained about a thing.
The father had a menial job and supplemented their food budget by fishing off the local pier, he literally went barefoot most of the time, he was saving his shoes for work, he explained to me.
The mother cleaned houses so she could take their son with her to work, a baby sitter or day care was well beyond their means. As I recall, I think she only had two changes of clothes.
Their son was older than a toddler, but far too young to go to school, but, he seemed to be clean and well fed, chubby even, so I felt that he was getting enough to eat.
One morning in late December, I was at the property, doing a follow up inspection of the other rental unit on the property. The little boy was playing in the yard, as he often was, I had noticed that he seemed to have no toys, and he usually played with empty cans, rocks and sticks, and, of course, good old Florida dirt.
As I was doing my inspection, I heard the little boy say "Santa!", the love and wonderment in that child's voice is something I'll never forget till I die.
I turned to see Santa, in full regalia, bearing down on the little boy, carrying a sack full of toys, and the child running toward Santa. And, I have felt since that day, that I was witness to a miracle.
So, is Santa Claus real? Yes he is, I saw him that day, and I saw him through the eyes of a child who believed with all his heart.
olcop