A single tear streams down her cheeks from the corner of her eye. A tear of sadness or a tear of happiness? Hard to tell, but a tear none-the-less. She stares into the fire raging in the fireplace and just takes in the crackling sounds and the snapping of the flames. As she looks around the room, she sees the tree brightly decorated with beautiful packaging underneath. She even knows that there is a special one or two there for her. Her children are fighting back the closing of their eyes and she knows it won't be long before sleep will overtake their excitement and they'll be carried off to bed. She looks over at ther husband who is fighting to keep his eyes awake as well and she imagines the boy he once was.
As she waits for slumber to finally come for the family she knows she will be up for a while yet. There is still work to be done and a past to reconcile in her mind. It's going to be a long night but one that she must face alone. She thinks back to the days when her biggest concern on Christmas Eve was trying to stay awake long enough to hear the gentle rap of reindeer hooves on the roof and the familiar Ho Ho Ho coming from downstairs. Sleep always won, and mercifully so.
She didn't grow up in the picture perfect settings that were portrayed on the cards of friends who sent their well wishes for the season. No, Christmas brought out an ugly side of the adults in her life. Egg nog with brandy, scotch on the rocks, hi balls, seven and sevens, champagne, Isabel rose wine, martini straight up with a lime twist - stirred, not shaken, Heineken beer... she could name all their drinks. What she couldn't know was what monster would emerge once the libations were consumed and what she would face for the next few days. Laying in her bed and hearing the fighting downstairs would reach something deep inside of her and rock her to her core. "Please Santa, remember that I am not my parents", she'd sigh into her pillow between the sobs she tried to stifle there. Many nights she lay there in fear, wondering if someone was going to come in and use her as a punching bag or worse.
Christmas Eve was always special though. That night she could have hope that Santa would come and certainly rescue her from the pit that she was caught in. She laid there and vowed that she would NEVER do this to her family and bless her heart, she hasn't. Every year she goes out of her way to make the memories special for those around her. It's become a sort of mission in her life. Santa still holds a special place in her heart. She is so very grateful that her children can just see him as a big ol' guy that comes to spread joy and good will. They don't have to go to sleep wondering if he will save them from unspeakable horrors.
Her husband has gotten used to her overstriving over the holidays and just has learned to accept it. He's not aware of the motivations, but he is astutely aware enough to know which battles to fight and trying to get his wife to sleep at a reasonable time on Christmas Eve is a battle he knows he can't win. So they've fallen into the routine of him carrying the children to bed as he kisses her on her cheek and she begins her work in earnest.
The cookies are made and set out with a glass of milk, just like she had done as a child. Sometimes she'll even take one of her husbands boots and put flour on the bottom to make tracks from the fireplace to the cookies, for visual effect. The packages from Santa have to have different paper from those that the family bought. The good presents are still from the family but there's always some special something from Santa, picked out perfectily for the recipient that they didn't even know they wanted or needed. The squeals of delight in the morning always confirm that the right gifts were picked... but that would be hours away.
This particular night, after everything had that picture-perfect look for the children to awake to in the morning, she poured herself a cup of hot cocoa and took a few minutes to just sit and stare at the fire once more before putting it out. After all, no one wants to be accused of burning Santa's rear as he descends down the chimney. A quick glance around confirmed that all was in place, except for one thing. There was still the matter of her past that she had to let go of.
As she sat there alone, in the dark of the night, she had to face the fear that if she'd have fallen asleep too soon, she would have awakened not to hoof beats but to the alcohol breath of an adult. Didn't matter which one, they all had abuses of their own. Sometimes it was physical and sometimes verbal but always it was scary. Those people are long gone in the physical world but somehow they still have a hold on the life that she has now. A life that is so vastly different from the one of her childhood. This was the night to put them all to rest once and for all.
As she sat there reminiscing, she didn't concentrate on just the negatives. There were good times too but somehow they got overshadowed by the trying times. Tonight, yes, tonight there was going to be a turning point. She no longer wanted to be a slave to a past that she didn't have any part of creating but was just a victim of.
Slowly she sipped her hot chocolate and one by one, she remembered all the hurt and pain inflicted on her through the years. She took those memories and as she finished with them, thew them in the fire and then turned to the person emblazened in her mind and forgave them. Some were easy and some took a little more time. But one by one she faced them all between the tears flowing down her face into her lap and the burning in the pit of her stomach. As she came to the end of the list of people, she felt a peace she hadn't known in a long time and she paused when she was overcome by it... somewhere off in the distance, she swore she heard bells and hoof beats and the faint sound of Ho Ho Ho and Merry Christmas to all. She smiled and she knew once and for all that she would be ok. Some say that Santa doesn't exist, but for a mother who has faced battle after battle all her life, she knows better. Oh he may not be the fat man that the cartoons portray that comes down the chimney, but there is a spirit of hope. A spirit that convinces the soul that all will be ok. A flicker of hope that is deep inside the recesses of your being. Yep, she still believes and that belief has treated her well. Without believing as a child, she would have been crushed under the weight of the circumstances.
Today, she has gotten closure and no longer needs to look to Santa as the one that will save her. She has since learned that there is a real Saviour that was born this day to save her and her tormenters from their sin. The same Saviour that has shown her that forgiveness is possible and is not about the other person. She believes with all her heart and there is still the little girl inside of her that remembers the days when Santa was the star of the day and was an anchor in a rough sea of life. So if anyone asks her if she believes in Santa, she smiles and replies, why yes, I still believe....
Merry Christmas and remember to have compassion and understanding for those who believe differently than you do. The real reason of the season is all about love, and that was sent to the earth in the form of a babe who came to rescue a hurt and dying and dark world. How can we do any less?
Merry Christmas!
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