This is the time of the year when thoughts turn to Christmas. We’re surrounded by decorations everywhere we turn. Hershey’s Kisses are red and green, the frozen cookie dough features Christmas trees designs in the center and egg nog’s taken the place of skim milk in the dairy case.
I sing along with Christmas carols on the radio, wondering if this generation has any clue why they’re listening to somebody who starred as “Big Daddy” in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” sing “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas.”
I wonder what Southern children picture in their minds when they hear holiday songs about sleigh bells dashing through the snow. Most have never seen snow, they haven’t a clue what a sleigh is and the only bells they hear are at school when the school day ends.
Adults are also at a loss when it comes to envisioning what Christmas songs promise. Most of us have never roasted chestnuts over an open fire, we’re not entirely sure what figgy pudding is and we gave up trying to figure out what “The Twelve Days of Christmas” is all about.
The roads are clogged with angry drivers on their way to the malls where they’ll start checking off items on their Christmas lists. Most of those weary shoppers are already wondering how they’re going to pay off that credit card bill when it comes rolling in on the 15th of January.
That reality check starts to weigh heavily when we’re waiting in a long line, our coupons flashing on our cell phones, and we think we must be crazy to be out with all these crazy people shopping for a gift our crazy loved one will probably take back anyway.
It’s easy to get lost in the commercialism of the holidays, especially with Black Friday sales, Moonlight Madness and everything seemingly 20 percent off. And, if we’re not careful, the Grinch can take over, and our holiday spirit can dash right out the window along with those 12 reindeer.
But a good friend, Julia Worley, told me something that convinced me it’s not too late to keep belief in our hearts.
She was at Rosenberg’s Christmas celebration and a young child came up to her after sitting on Santa’s lap. The child looked at her, eyes big and wide, and said “Santa’s real.”
Julia said that one remark made her realize that little child is right.
I see Santa when volunteers stand up for children as court-appointed advocates. I see Santa’s face whenever I look at people assisting the elderly or comforting a forlorn teenager. I know I saw Santa this summer in the hearts of people who helped flood victims in Louisiana and Texas.
Santa was riding along with the Cajun Navy in and around Baton Rouge and Lafayette. Here in Fort Bend County, he was in his jon boat, rescuing people, dogs and cats and then going back to help people see the damage the waters had caused.
The spirit of “good will toward men” was evident in the people who opened their closets and wallets and donated thousands of dollars, clothes, shoes and toys to the flood relief centers.
The jolly elf was living in the hearts of the volunteers who staffed relief centers, making sure displaced people received food, vouchers and clothing to replace what they’d lost in an unprecedented flood.
Many of those people are still trying to recover, and Santa’s elves are hard at work, hammering, putting up sheet rock and laying tile in rebuilt kitchens and bathrooms.
Yes, dear child, Santa is real.
If you know where to look, you’ll see him every day.
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.