The magic of Santa

Just before Halloween, we attended a campfire in our local state park. We arrived just as the sun was beginning to set and drove home in total darkness. The participants took a nature stroll through the woods, followed by a campfire complete with Halloween songs and s’mores. It was enormously fun.

In that moment before darkness settled in, my son looked up into the sky and triumphantly exclaimed, “Mommy, Daddy, I see Rudolph!” 

He was pointing at an airplane, of course. My husband, in his wicked wisdom, has told our twins that airplanes are Rudolph. That he and Santa are watching every move they make. It’s amazing how effectively it stabilizes behavior. The adults in the group cracked up. The children started searching the skies. Priceless moment. 

As an adult, I find it magnificent, this unshaken belief in Santa Clause.  I mean, seriously. The logic is beyond ridiculous. 

Let’s sum it up. Over the course of one night, one guy travels across the entire world and delivers presents to practically every boy and girl. He lands on their roof, slides down the chimney and delivers the exact presents that each and every kid drooled over in the local toy store. 

And his sleigh is only moderately sized, and pulled by reindeer. Oh, and his belly is way too big to fit in a chimney. 

Imagine that…

What is only slightly more insane is that kids believe it. For years. They behave well for fear of losing presents. They gaze adoringly at the random man dressed in a Santa suit at the local gym, or church, or supermarket… and they fail to notice that this one has blue eyes while the one last week was brown eyed.

Or perhaps they just don’t want to notice, because they want to believe and looking at the details will force them to face a reality they aren’t ready to face yet. They want to believe in magic because they are in love with the idea of Santa. They love the romance of flying reindeer and piles of presents. They love the music and the lights on the Christmas tree. They don’t care about logic. They crave magic and will suspend belief to maintain that feeling as long as possible. 

I understand why, because adults do it as well. 

My husband and I watched Avatar recently. We had seen it before, in the theater, but we bought the DVD when it came out. I love that movie, despite the fact that suspended mountains don’t exist. Neither do extra large blue people with reinforced bones, dragons or 6 legged horses. And yet, I love that movie. Watching the soul of a wheelchair bound body get transported into a strong and spirited body makes my heart light up with joy. I am entranced by the floating souls.  I can’t help but smile when the dragons soar through the air and I want to cheer when Jake changes side and takes his “true” form in his avatar body. 

And no, I don’t care that it’s not physically possible. Don’t remind me, ok? 

I just want to enjoy the magic.