Who Is Santa?

I BELIEVE IN SANTA CLAUS

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma.. I
was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my
bike to visit her. On the way, my big sister dropped
the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she
jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled
to her that day because I knew she would be straight with
me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that
the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed
with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I
knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had
to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between
bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me.

"No Santa Claus?" she
snorted..."Ridiculous! Don't you believe it!
That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me
mad, plain mad!!

Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where Grandma", I asked. I
hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon
bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General
Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just
about everything.

As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten
dollars. That was a bundle in those days.

"Take this money," she said, "and buy
something for someone who needs it.
I'll wait for you in the car."

Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone
shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for
anything all by myself.

The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling
to finish their Christmas shopping.

For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching
that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on
earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my
neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to
my church.

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of
Bobby Decker.

He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat
right behind mein Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.

Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he
never went out to recess during the winter.

His mother always wrote a note telling the teacher that he
had a cough,but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker
didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat..

I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing
excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I
settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it.. It
looked real warm, and he would like that.

"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the
lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten
dollars down.

"Yes ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's
for Bobby."

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby
really needed a good winter coat.

I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag,
smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag
fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible)

in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby,

From Santa Claus" on it.

Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then
she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house,

explaining as we went that I was now and forever
officially, one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and
she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his
front walk.

Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa
Claus," she whispered, "get going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the
present down on his step,

pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes
and Grandma.

Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the
front door to open.
Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments
spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's
bushes.

That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa
Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous..

Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I
still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside:
$19.95.

May you always have LOVE to share,HEALTH to spare and
FRIENDS that care...


And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!

Give back - what you can, where you can, whenever you can.


I recieved this in an email just now and thought I would share.