It’s incredible how upset people get when I mention, I don’t celebrate Santa.
In all the years, Mike has been decorating our front yard with snowmen and penguins, and Christmas trees and Snoopys, and Star Wars and gingerbread men, not even once has a child asked us, “Where’s Santa?”
But you better believe, that adults do. Not all, but there are quite a few.
Even after explaining my reasoning I get,
“Oh, so you don’t believe in Santa, but you believe in a great big snowman, instead?”
I want to say, “Don’t be dumb.”
But I don’t. I hold my tongue.
Believing in Christ offends people. Not celebrating Santa, during Christmas, offends people too, I suppose.
Who knew?
But I’m not standing out in my front yard, holding signs and yelling through a blow horn that anyone is going to hell for putting a Santa in their front yard.
I’m not.
I’m not condemning anyone who does.
Regrettably, I have several pictures of my kids sitting on some strange man, wearing a red suit’s, lap.
Each one of my kids received at least one present from me, but addressed from Santa, until they were at least 8 years old.
So Santa celebrating went on for a good sixteen years under my roof.
Most of those years, I was a single mom just trying to make ends meet.
God provided for everyone of those years, and yet I gave credit to Santa.
I’m so ashamed now.
So no, I don’t celebrate Santa.
But I do celebrate Christmas with snowmen and penguins, and Christmas trees and Snoopys, and Star Wars and gingerbread men, because they’re fun, and they’re cute and they don’t promise my kids anything, and they don’t take credit for making them happy or giving them anything.
Not everyone has walked in my shoes. Not everyone has experienced the heartache of a Santa, year after year. Not everyone has gone through what I have.
It’s why my relationship with Jesus is a personal one. Everyone’s is personal. Having a relationship with him is a unique one, unlike anyone elses.
So, I’m not asking anyone to change.
I’m just over here celebrating Christmas the way I do. With inflatables and lights, and presents and music, with neighbors and strangers, and with kids and sometimes with those offended adults.
And if I’m lucky, I get to share my relationship with Christ, with someone who asks,
“Where’s Santa?”
Growing Faith 