Reindeer Tales

It was a beautiful, warm autumn day.

Santa’s reindeer were all together out in their favorite pasture. There was the usual Team, the “famous eight” which most people know by name. Rudolf, of course, was there. There were a lot of old, retired Team members, too, as well as a bunch of new recruits – younger reindeer who were being trained to replace the current Team members if anyone got sick – became too old to fly anymore.

The herd had spent the day working hard.

Cardio. Drills. Learning signs. Studying maps.

And much, much more…..

Santa’s Team had been working with some of the younger ones on flying.

Basically, teaching them how to fly.

Not everyone was going to be able to fly and pull Santa and his sleigh, of course, but those who could needed a lot of practice. They also needed to spend time studying routes: how they got from place to place, all over the world, in just one night.

Summers were busy. It was really a lot of work getting ready for The Big Night!

But right now, everyone needed a break. This was a time for telling stories.

Fun. Sometimes scary. But also educational. Stories.

The stories usually started with, “Remember the time…?”

“Remember that big Thanksgiving Day parade when….?”

“Remember when Santa told everybody that…?”

“Remember that time when he forgot…?” “…he lost a bag…”

Stories like this one.

Remember that one year when we got caught in the terrible storm?” There were nods and grimaces all around from the older reindeer. “Tell us about it!” the younger ones said. “Boy, that’s a good one! Lots of lessons to be learned. OK, then…here goes.”

Comet started telling the story.

It was a very cold and windy Christmas Eve many years ago. One of the coldest and windiest anyone could remember.

It was not the kind of night that the reindeer wanted to be flying around the world.

But because it was Christmas, they had to!

So they got ready.

The elves were busy loading toy bags into the sleigh.

Santa was busy dressing as warm as he could.

Mrs. Claus was busy brewing up some hot tea for the trip.

The reindeer were busy with their pre-flight warm-up, and going over the route Santa had given them for that year’s trip.

Everybody was excited, but it wasn’t the fun kind of excitement they usually felt before Christmas Eve. No, it was more of a nervous excitement.

(Oh, by the way, Comet noted, this was before Rudolf joined the Team.)

When the last of Santa’s bags were in the sleigh, when the Team was all harnessed up, and when Santa was just about ready to climb aboard, the old man whispered to Donner and Blitzen, the two lead reindeer, “This storm is really bad! We can’t even see the stars to help us navigate.

Got any ideas how we should do this tonight?”

“Well,” started Donner, “we could fly the route in reverse. Maybe we could stay ahead of the wind and snow.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s right,” Donner said.

“Instead of flying into the storm,” Blitzen suggested, “what if we head a little north first, then west, and try to fly around it?”

“We’ll be flying by the seat of our pants,” Santa noted. “In this storm, even our old compass doesn’t work well. But….”

So that’s what they decided to do.

Remember, this was before Rudolf!

Throughout that Christmas Eve, they did get blown off course,

got lost once or twice,

got to some places a little later than usual, and

generally had a tough time delivering all the gifts.

It was NOT a fun trip. but in the end, they made it home safely.

Boy, did they ever need a rest after that night!

“Phew! We never want to do that again!” Santa said when they were safely home.

“Did we learn anything tonight?”

Comet was quick to reply, “We need some new safety stuff!”

In the spring, Santa got a new compass and a couple big flashlights.

Oh, and guess who joined the Team soon after that.

On the other side of the field, Vixen started to chuckle. The chuckle turned into a full, loud laugh.

“What’s so funny?” one of the new guys asked.

“I was just thinking about Rudolf,” Vixen answered. “Remember that time when….?”

That’s when Vixen started to tell a new story,

one that the young reindeer had not heard before.

It was late in the summer a few years after that terrible, stormy Christmas Eve. The whole herd was just relaxing before they really had to start their pre-Christmas exercises. All the regular sleigh-pulling Team was there – and by now, that included Rudolf.

There were also a bunch of new recruits being trained to join the group.

On that afternoon, they were relaxing, just tossing a frisbee around.

(A frisbee? Yep! Can you imagine a herd of reindeer playing frisbee?)

Well….

Wingnut, one of the new young bucks, let his frisbee fly. He gave it a good hard throw. And wouldn’t you know, but it hit Rudolf in the nose. His nose.

It broke his nose, in fact!

Oh sure, Rudolf’s nose was still red, but now it was a swollen, bruised-up red. Not the kind of bright, headlight red Santa needed to lead the Team on Christmas Eve.

“Oh, no!” they all thought! “What are we going to do now? What are we going to tell Santa?”

“Maybe he won’t notice,” one of the young reindeer said.

“Are you kidding?!” came the reply – from almost everybody.

Trudy, one of the old, old-timers, trotted off to get some bandages and some ice. When she got back, she packed on the ice and wrapped up Rudolf’s nose. “How does it feel?” she asked.

“I can’t feel anything,” Rudolf answered. “I can’t smell.

And I’m pretty sure I can’t light up!”

The whole Team just about freaked out!

The older reindeer and the young trainees all agreed not to tell Santa – yet. Rudolf would have to kind of hide, stay inside their barn, eat alone, and just rest for a while. They did have time before Christmas, so they just hoped – and prayed – that

Rudolf’s nose would heal up in time.

In the meantime, they tried to come up with some ideas:

“Maybe we can all get some flashlights….”

“Maybe the elves can make us something….”

“Maybe we can find a flying car to lead us….”

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe….

It took almost all the time between that day and Christmas for Rudolf’s nose to heal. Trudy was in charge of that. The hardest part was keeping it a secret from Santa while making sure that Rudolf was staying in shape to fly.

It was a couple weeks before Christmas when Rudolf was well enough to come out with the others, and to see Santa. His nose was almost back to normal – but almost wasn’t quite good enough.

It looked fine in the daytime, but not all that bright when it got dark.

It was a serious story, but the way Vixen told it, everyone was laughing so hard! Santa even laughed when the reindeer finally told him…..a few years later!

OK, you guys.” It was Rudolf talking this time. “That was a good story. But I have a real doozy! And it’s a good lesson for all the newbies!”

Rudolf didn’t really talk very much, so when he did everybody listened really hard.

“So … you heard about that terrible trip before I joined the Team. You heard about my nose, my bright red nose. It was broken, but it healed up. Well, noses don’t usually shine like mine does, but they do usually smell things.”

That was all it took.

The Team knew what was coming next, and they started to laugh so hard that the others could barely hear Rudolf.

It all happened many years ago.

That year, Santa and Mrs. Claus had sent out a note to their helpers around the world. The note let people know that Santa and the reindeer really, really appreciated the snacks and goodies that folks left Santa and his Team. Cookies. Coffee cake. Lots of carrots. Sometimes celery. Shots of whiskey…

But the Clauses wanted everyone to know that the reindeer cannot eat the raw, crunchy vegetables. Especially those carrots! Reindeer just don’t have the right teeth to chew them up. And they can really mess up a reindeer’s tummy!

Every Christmas, Santa had to load lots of carrots back into his sleigh and bring bags and bags – and bags – of them back to the North Pole.

The elves would eat some, cook some, and give lots to food banks and friends.

The reindeer do like to eat other things, though. They love raisins. And cranberries. And mushrooms. And of course, moss and their favorite: lichens.

Children didn’t usually leave those things out,

but every once in a while, the reindeer got some great treats.

Rudolf went on with his story.

That Christmas Eve many years ago was cold. Not as windy and stormy as the year they almost got lost, but just plain cold.

Mrs. Claus wanted Santa and his Team to be warmed up, so she made big pots of nice, sweet baked beans for everyone. There was plenty to go around, and everybody was warm and full before they had to fly out that night.

The sleigh was loaded and ready just before midnight. Routes were checked. The Team was harnessed. Santa climbed aboard.

At midnight, they headed out – flying west toward the Pacific, then south toward Australia. There were many, many stops along the way.

There were many, many treats along the way, as usual. After the baked beans, Mrs. Claus had also packed some of the Team’s favorite mosses and other goodies to eat, and there were more raisins and fruits that year than usual.

Team had to stay energized and full all night.

Santa and the Team made good time that year. Where it was cold, it was very cold, but where it was warmer, it was quite pleasant. Flying over Europe got pretty chilly, though.

Finally, after all their stops in England, then Ireland, they continued westward over the cold Atlantic toward North America. One of their last stops would be Hawaii.

Rudolf, of course, was in front, leading the way.

That meant it was cold. It also meant that the Team had to fly harder and faster to be sure they got Santa to the homes in America on time.

That’s when all the “fun” started.

That’s when all the beans and raisins, fruits and moss kicked in.

Rudolf was the first.

He started with just a little “pfpfffftt!” Hardly enough to notice.

But Donner and Blitzen did notice!

“Eeeough!” they snorted. “What was that?”

Rudolf said nothing. He just kept lighting the way.

Soon there was another. A little bigger and louder. It came from Rudolf again, but another one also came from Blitzen. And then Prancer. Then Comet. Dancer. Pop-pop-pop! Parumpppp! Ssssssttttt! Frraaaapppp! On and on…..

It turned into a flying, farty fantasy! A bum burp symphony! A Christmas cacophony!

A nose-nasty nocturn that seemed to just go on and on!

All the reindeer – except Rudolf, of course – tried to not breathe in the air.

But they had to fly hard and fast, and the wind carried the farts

right back toward them.

Of course, the fragrance was stronger and stronger for the pairs of reindeer the farther back in the Team.

But it was the worst for Santa, himself.

And there was nothing he could do about it. He had to drive the sleigh.

He had to keep the Team on course.

He had to stay focused.

He had to breathe – and that got harder and harder to do.

Santa Claus almost passed out!

Somewhere before they reached Newfoundland, things began to settle down. At least a little bit.

Rudolf finished by saying, “Finally, by the time we got to Canada, the stinky symphony stopped. Everybody was relieved, but nobody was more relieved than Santa himself. He could breathe again!”

“One more thing,” Cupid added. “After that trip, Santa made a new rule:

No beans before take off!”

And that’s been the rule ever since.

Needless to say, the whole herd of reindeer was rolling on the ground laughing!

There are lots more reindeer tales. Lots more!

For everyone at the North Pole, summers are busy. There is really a lot of work getting ready for The Big Night!

There is also time for stories. The stories are fun, funny, and educational.

The stories often start with, “Remember the time…?” “Remember that big Thanksgiving Day parade when….?” “Remember when Santa told everybody that…?” “Remember that time when he forgot…?” “…when he lost a bag…” “When……”

Wait….lost a bag?

Ah, yes. But that’s another story for another day.

One Last Christmas

“Daddy.  There’s no such thing as Santa Claus, you know.”

That matter-of-fact statement stung me like an icy, winter wind.  It had no place in the warmth of the summer sun.

“Whatever do you mean?” I asked my daughter Noel.  She had just said good-bye to the last of her friends after her eighth birthday party.  It was a beautiful August day, perfect for friends and fun, games and gifts, and, of course, cake and ice cream.  Noel was now officially eight, well into the “age of reason.”

“Well, what I mean is – there’s no such person as Santa.  He’s just made up.  That’s all.  It’s no big deal Daddy.  I am eight now, you know.  I can handle it.”

“But…but…but…what brought this up?  Where did this idea come from?” I sputtered.

The look on my face must have said more than my words.  The next thing Noel said to me was, “Don’t cry, Daddy.  It really is OK.”  She went on to explain, “Kristen told me.  And Jennifer.  Even Michelle.  They told me at my party.  They said now that I’m eight, I’m old enough to know.  They said that Santa’s for babies and that parents really buy the presents.  And sometimes Grandmas and Grandpas – and everybody.”

My expression was unchanged.  My face continued to say more than any words I could speak.

Noel continued, “You must have known, didn’t you, Daddy?  Santa is for little kids.  I’m bigger now.  I really don’t need to believe in him anymore.”

I was shocked. Dumbfounded.  Crushed.  Saddened to my very core.  Mom and I knew that our baby was growing up.  We knew that she would “learn” things we did not want her to hear.  But I had always hoped that we would be able to soften some of the blows that her new knowledge might bring.  Now, it seemed, it was I who was unprepared, who needed something to soften the blow. There was some small comfort in knowing that Noel had not been told “the truth” by her older brother or sister.  But that comfort was disturbed by her last statement.  “I really don’t need to believe in him anymore.”  That was just too much.  Much too much.

Our family was a “Christmas Family.”  We loved Christmas.  We held traditions.  We knew Santa Claus very well.  He was an important part of our celebrations.  I was not ready to give him up, and I did not want my family to give him up either.  I believed in him.  I had known him all my life.  He was a part of Christmas.  My Christmas.  My family’s Christmas.  Everybody’s Christmas.  I didn’t care what the big kids said; I knew that we needed him!

Now, some well-meaning, older and wiser children were trying to take him away. Something of beauty and wonder was being lost, evaporating in the heat of a summer afternoon.  Melting like forgotten ice-cream left in the sun.

Drastic measures were called for.  We needed help.  And fast.

“I have an idea,” I said. “I’m going to write a letter to Santa.  Today.  Just to see what happens.  I don’t know about you, but I’d sure feel better if I did that.  You want to help me?”

“A letter?  To Santa? But, Daddy,” Noel replied, “It’s August.  Where would we send it?  What would we say?”

Noel’s mild protest gave me hope.  There was still a spark of belief.

“What will we say?  I’m not sure.  But we can work on it together – and I guess we just send it to the North Pole, as usual.”

So that’s just what we did.  With Noel’s help, I wrote:

August

Dear Santa,

Good afternoon.  Remember us?  You’ve been coming to our house for a long time.

It’s a beautiful summer day here.  I’ll bet it’s a pretty busy time for you, though, getting all those toys ready for Christmas in a few months.  Do you have any time off?

I am writing this letter because we have a problem and I need your advice.  My daughter Noel has just turned eight.  She’s at that ago, you know.  Well, her older and wiser friends are telling her the ‘truth’ about the world – and about you, if you know what I mean.  After she said that she didn’t believe in you anymore, she even said that she didn’t need you anymore, but I don’t believe that. I know this is part of life, but I’m not ready for that to happen yet, and I don’t think she is either She really wants to hear from you.  In a way, it’s very sad, but there is still hope.

Her mom and I are not sure what to say or do.  We still have some time before Christmas. Can you help us? 

Thank you,

Mike

Noel prepared an envelope using the same North Pole address we had used for years and years of Christmas letters.  Together we dropped it in a mailbox.  To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect, but at least I’d bought some more time to think.

One day, not too long after, a reply came.  It was addressed to me in longhand and postmarked from the North Pole.  In amazement, I opened the envelope, looked at the beautiful, flowing handwriting and read:

September

Dear Mike,

Thank you for your letter.  Of course I remember you.  You were one of those kids who never paid much attention to your “older and wiser” friends when they tried to tell you the “truth.”  I always liked that in you.  You held your own truth, the one that came from your heart.

You know, you already have the answer you want from me.  It’s still there in your heart.  Look back and listen.  One day, the moment will come when you can pass your truth on to Noel.

Until that day comes, be patient.  And listen.

Peace and joy,

Santa

The answer is already here.  Wait and listen.  Easy to say; hard to do.  Time was passing.

Golden summer cooled into tawny autumn.  Carefree vacation days gave way to school bells.  Tanned cheeks turned ruddy in nippy breezes.  September slipped into October and the talk was all of Halloween.

I listened intently – but heard nothing.  Then one day…

“Daddy, do you believe in ghosts?” Noel asked one gusty Saturday as we gathered fallen leaves into soft brown piles. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied, playing into the spirit of the season.  “I guess I’d probably say no  –  but around this time of year…I’m not so sure.  Can’t be too careful, you know.”

I thought I’d answered with just the right suggestion of mystery – but Noel’s next question caught me by surprise.

“But Daddy, how come you don’t believe in ghosts?  You believe in Santa. We can’t see ghosts and we’ve never seen Santa.  How come you do believe in one, but you don’t believe in the other?  Do you really think there’s a Santa Claus?”

Aha!  The words in the letter from Santa sprang to my mind.  Was this what I had been listening for?  Could I now pull the answer from my heart?  I had to try.

“Well, Sweetie, let me tell you this.  I don’t know any ghosts.  I’ve never seen or talked to any ghosts.  I’ve never written a letter to a ghost.  And I don’t really want to believe in ghosts.

But Santa is different.  I know him.  I have known him for years.  I’ve talked to him; I have written to him.  In my heart, I believe in him.  And in my heart, I don’t just think there’s a Santa Claus, I know it.”

“But Daddy, what about the presents and the chimney and the reindeer and all that.  Santa doesn’t go to everybody’s house.  He didn’t go to Kristen’s last year.  Kristen said they opened all their presents on Christmas Eve and there was nothing left in the morning.”

There was courage in her voice which pleaded for the right answer. There was also sadness in her voice as she continued, “And Michelle said that she knows it’s all moms and dads because she found lots of presents hidden in her attic and then her mom and dad said Santa brought them.  And Jennifer stayed up all night and nobody came.  And….”

“Hold it!” I interrupted.  “This is getting serious.  You know, if you want to find out the truth, why don’t you write your own letter to Santa and get the answers straight from him. Do you want to do that?”

“You mean now?” Noel asked.  “It’s not time yet.  I mean, what would I say? Do you think Santa would answer me the way he answered you?”

That spark of hope again.

“Noel, you just ask Santa anything you want.  We’ll mail your letter just like we mailed mine last summer.  I’m sure he’ll answer you.  I have a lot of faith in him, you know.”

It didn’t take any more encouragement for Noel to compose her letter.  I wrote down her words as fast as I could as they flowed out.

October

Dear Santa,

Hi.  My daddy said for me to write to you.  My daddy says he believes in you, but I think that’s what daddies are supposed to say because they want us kids to believe in people like you.

Is it Ok if I ask you some things?  I don’t want to sound mean or anything, but are you really real?  My friends told me that you’re not.  They said it’s really mommies and daddies who do all the Christmas stuff.  They said that moms and dads buy all the presents and hide them in the house til Christmas.  And then they put the stuff under the tree when us kids go to sleep.  Sara even sneaked out and saw her mom and dad do it.

I really want to believe in you, but the things they said sounded for true. 

And how can you get all over the world in just one night.  Do you really go to every house?  And if kids get presents anyway, why do they need to believe in you?

If you are really real, can you come to our house just one more Christmas?  And can I see you and talk to you just once – this last Christmas?  Please. I really need to know.  Will you answer me soon?

Love,
Noel

We addressed this letter as we had addressed the earlier one.  We dropped it in the same mailbox.  I don’t know which one of us was more anxious about getting yet another reply from the North Pole.

Once Halloween is over, autumn inched ever closer to winter.  Frosty mornings sparkled. Snow threatened.  The holidays approached.  Temperatures dropped; spirits rose. Everyone knew that Christmas was on the way. 

Shortly before Thanksgiving, mixed among the early catalogs, a letter arrived.  In the beautiful, now-familiar handwriting, it was addressed to Noel and postmarked, again, from the North Pole. Mom put it next to Noel’s plate on the dinner table and told the other kids not to touch it.

Later, when it was quiet, Noel and I opened this new letter and read it.

November

Dear Noel,

Thank you for your letter.  Actually, I get quite a few letters from children asking me the same things you asked.  I’m afraid that many of those children do not believe in me when they write, though.  They just want to see what will happen if they do write.

I must tell you something right away.  I really did not intend to come to your house this Christmas.  It is important for you to know that – and to know why.  Please do not think that it’s because I am angry at your questions or that I think you have not been good.  It is nothing like that. 

You see, it’s just that there are so many children – so very many little ones.  More and more every year.  There comes a time when I have to stop visiting some of my “old” friends so that I can begin to visit my new ones.  Even with all the joyful magic of Christmas, one night is still just one night!

That’s when moms and dads, brothers and sisters, grandmas and grandpas even, begin to help me out more and more in homes like yours.

But that does not mean that I’m not real – or even that I don’t know what you’ve asked for.  You see, I still do keep track of all my children, whatever their ages.  I even know what your parents want.  They were children once, too, you know.

Some of those parents remember their own childhoods and their own Christmases better than others.  They are the ones who keep me “alive” in their homes.  Others forget.  Sadly, they are the ones who hide gifts where children can find them.  They’re the ones who forget to have their children write to me.  And they are the ones who don’t have any answers when the older and wiser children begin to tell “the truth.”

There’s an old saying that goes, “There are none so blind as those who will not see.”  It’s not with eyes alone that a person sees.  It’s also with the heart.  When a parent loses sight of the Spirit of Christmas, the loss is contagious.  It spreads through a family like a bad cold.  I am afraid this is what has happened to some of your friends. 

They can’t “see” me because they won’t see me.  They begin to try to explain me away as a fairy tale, a children’s fantasy.  I become something unneeded as they grow older.  Sadly for them, the Christmas Spirit slowly fades until one day, they’re old – and the spirit is gone.  For them, Christmas becomes just a lot of extra work.  It is very sad to watch.  I am afraid that for some of your friends, this may be starting already.

But in your heart, I see that you still want to believe – to keep the eyes of your heart wide open.  You need to believe in me to keep the spirit of Christmas alive.  Even if for just a little longer.

So, Noel, to answer your request, yes, I will visit you on Christmas Eve.  One last time.  We will talk and you will know that I am real.  And one day, perhaps, when your own little ones come to you as you went to your dad, you will help them to see.  And you’ll keep the spirit and the magic alive for them, too.

Rest assured that I will come.

Joyfully,

Santa

Noel and I read the letter from Santa several times.  Mom and I read it several more times after the children were all tucked into bed.  The letter was wonderful; the promise to visit was incredible.  Noel was thrilled.  Mom and I were – well, we were remarkably calm.

Thanksgiving came.  December followed crisply behind, and the holiday season wrapped us in a flurry of activities.  There was a sense of anticipation unlike any in years past.  There was truly magic in the air.

Of the many traditions which we hold around Christmas, the setting of the manger is first. Just after Thanksgiving, we place an empty creche on the mantle. Over the next few weeks, all the nativity figures are arranged in their proper place in and around it.  All, that is, but the Baby Jesus.  Baby Jesus waits on the hearth until Christmas Eve.  Santa places Him in the manger as the first gift of Christmas.  But once the creche is put out, Christmas can start.

As always, candles filled the air with fragrance; carols filled the air with music.  Cards filled our mailbox, and catalogs filled the children’s heads with ideas! Our tree was bigger, our wreath fuller, our cupboards stocked higher than ever.   There was eggnog for everyone who came to the door.

Presents arrived in the mail from family and friends.  Stockings were hung.  Cards were written and sent.

For Noel and for me, the days passed ever more slowly as we got closer to Christmas Eve.  Anticipation had slowed the clock.  This year, it seemed like time, itself, was waiting. 

Finally, it was December 24. 

Our final Christmas Eve traditions were just about complete. Toward evening, Noel, her brother and sister prepared Santa’s tray – slices of Mom’s homemade fruitcake and a cup of eggnog so he wouldn’t be hungry, a nip of brandy so he wouldn’t be cold.  Carrots and celery for the reindeer. With a wink toward me, they placed it on the hearth along with the figure of Baby Jesus. And this year, a note:

Dear Santa, I’ll be waiting, Love, Noel.

Before bed, each of the children was allowed to open one of the presents which had been sent from family far away.

Finally, Noel bathed, brushed her teeth and combed her hair.  She straightened her blankets and fluffed her pillows.  Her brother and sister did the same, and soon everyone was climbing into bed.  Mom and I tucked them in and kissed them all good-night.

Mom and I then finished our own preparations and got into bed. The house became quiet.  Everyone gentled into a sugarplum sleep.

As always on Christmas Eve, one candle still flickered in the living room window.  “It lights the way for Mary and Joseph,” Grandma always said.

Somewhere in the night, through the soft silence of dreams, Noel first heard the voice gently calling her name.

“Noel! Noel…” the voice whispered warmly, “I’m here.  I’ve come to wish you all the joy of Christmas.”

Noel stirred in her sleep.  She heard the voice again and smiled.

“Noel,” the voice continued,  “I’ve come to see you just like I said I would.  I’ve come to pass the spirit of Christmas on to you.”

A toss.  A gentle turn. A half-open eye. And there in the snow-silver moonlight, Noel saw him. She saw him not only with her eyes alone, but with her very heart.  Kris Kringle!  Saint Nicholas!  Father Christmas!  Santa Claus!

“Santa?” she whispered in her half-sleep, afraid to speak too loudly lest she break the magic.  “Is it really you?  Is it really?  I knew you’d come.  I knew it!”

“Yes, Noel, it’s me.  I’ve come just as I said I would.  And now, my gift to you: from this moment on, you are one of the special few chosen to carry the true spirit of Christmas.  It’s a big responsibility, you know.  But I have faith in you.  I believe in you.  You are a gift to me!  May you always share the joy of Christmas.  Oh, by the way, I have a little job for you in the morning. It’s your first gift.”

“Thank you, Santa.  Thank you so much for coming.”

“It is really I who should thank you, Noel, for keeping the spirit alive. And thank you, too, for the treats.  They were delicious!  I must be going now.  Merry Christmas, Noel.”

“Merry Christmas, Santa.  I love you.” Santa bent over, gently touched Noel’s hand as he kissed her cheek and was gone.

In the morning, Mom and I were surprised not to be awakened before the crack of dawn.  The older children had learned to sleep in and wait for their little sister to come wake them on Christmas morning.

“It’s awfully quiet,” said Mom.

“It sure is,” I agreed.  “We’d better go check on the kids.”

After finding the other children still asleep, we went to Noel’s room and to our surprise, found her still snug in her bed, a dreamy smile on her face.

“Wake up, Sweetie,” I nudged.  “It’s Christmas!  “Let’s go see if Santa was here.”

As we began to hear the two older kids stir in their rooms, Noel opened her eyes, yawned and gave each of us a big hug, the warmth of her blankets lingering on her arms.

“Come on, Sweetie.  Let’s go see if Santa was here, “I urged again.

She smiled and said in a voice much wiser than the one she had gone to sleep with, “It’s OK, Daddy.  There’s no rush.  Santa was here.”

Mom and I looked at one another, sharing a silent message of relief.  We said nothing.  We had heard nothing during the night.  But Noel was so calm, so convinced. “He really was.  He was here!  And now it’s Christmas.”

Innocence maintained.

“I guess her sugarplum dreams did their magic,” I whispered to Mom.

Mom went on to check on the other kids while I waited for Noel.

After another yawn and a big stretch, Noel got up and looked for her robe, ready to go open her gifts.

She was about to take my hand when she stopped for a moment.  She looked down at her bed.  She giggled to herself and said something I could not hear. 

She reached down and brushed bits of fruitcake from her blanket and pillow with one hand.  As she did, I noticed our tiny porcelain Baby Jesus in the other.  The first gift of Christmas. 

“OK, Daddy, let’s go!” she said.  “And Daddy…

Merry Christmas!”