It’s been a bittersweet day, a treat that bites back.

With children in the household, it is impossible to miss the mounting excitement of Christmas as it builds.  Each minute is torment; they are wound far too tightly, giddy with laughter and too easily pushed to tears.  The ten-year-old already knows the truth of Christmas, that no fat man in a red wool suit will worm his way down the chimney tonight.  She’s been a real trooper, keeping the secret and milking the suspense in order to let her younger brother enjoy himself.  In spite of being inside on the secret, she’s still excessively excited, on the edge.  Even discussing it in private can’t talk her down.

The little guy has been begging to go to bed early all day, so that Santa can come as soon as possible.  He’s been trying very hard to hang on to Santa; we know this, having heard each afternoon after school about this child or that in his class confessing to him the truth of Christmas.  There is no Santa Claus, they tell him.  He gets huffy and defensive with them, tells them they are wrong.

He recounts this to me, looking at me with his wide, innocent eyes and asks me, Tell me the truth, Mom.  Is there a Santa Claus?

There is a Santa Claus.  I tell him this without hesitation.  I just can’t tell him the entire truth.  Not just yet.  It’ll sound hokey when I do tell him, it'll sound something like, Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus…

But there is a Santa Claus.  If I can explain what God is, I can certainly explain that Santa is an entity that exists in what is pure, childlike, utterly unselfish, in that which is the soul of generosity and joyousness.  Santa exists in each one of us, but only when bidden and nurtured.

That will have to wait until next year, thank goodness.  For now, we revel in the last bit of his innocence and wonder.

In spite of his happy excitement, there is a certain sadness.  We are saying goodbye to a bit of his childhood this Christmas; we’ve talked about it behind his back, discussed this as co-conspirators.  My daughter understands this; she seems to realize she’s saying goodbye to a part of her childhood, too.  Once her brother steps into this next state of awareness, she will be pushed to her next level.  She won’t be a child at all for much longer.  My spouse doesn’t quite understand what all the fuss is about, but he’s cooperating with us by keeping everything under wraps.

Almost, that is.  He just slipped and brought out some “Santa” gifts to put under the tree without checking to see if the little one is asleep.  Oh well…

There are other goodbyes we are making this season.  We worked for several hours today at the new house, sweeping debris and dust in preparation for the last of the insulation, the drywall and the flooring this next week.  Although there is a temporary furnace and a small amount of heat, the cold keeps us from staying over long.  The kids were too happy to be back in the warmth of our current home this afternoon after we completed our chores.  It dawned on them as they thawed out, in the midst of flapping their chilly arms and shucking their snowpants, that this is the last Christmas in the home they’ve known their entire lives.  They wandered around the house as this truth sank in, looking at it with different eyes.  This year, the Christmas tree goes here…next year, where will we put it?  They ask far too many questions too quickly; I have not thought that far ahead, I tell them.  Let’s try and concentrate on here and now.

Yes, we have all this next month or two to make goodbyes as we usher out the old year, as leave the old house.

For now, it’s Christmas.

And Santa is here.

11:33:31 PM    comment []