Wednesday, December 19, 2012

And We're Back

I was surfing around Pinterest this morning when I found something quite remarkable.  So I called my husband.

Ring, ring

Him:  Hello?
Me:  Hi honey.
Him:  Hey babe.
Me:  So, that letter you gave our son about Santa - did you actually write that like you said?
Him:  Yes.
Me:  You wrote it?
Him:  ... yes ... why?
Me:  Because I just found it on the Internet.
Him:  Oh.
Me:  Why did you tell me you wrote it?
Him:  I got it from Mutual Friend and changed some things.
Me:  But why did you tell me YOU wrote it?
Him:  Because it made you so happy, and you were crying and I felt stuck. I emailed Mutual Friend and she said to just go with it.  It was something I was doing for our son.
Me:  The illusion has been shattered.
Him:  That's why I didn't want you to post it on Facebook.


Me:  Are you on the toilet?
Him:  Yes.


I'm letting him off the hook because it is a beautiful letter and because he did make the effort to restore our son's faith in Santa, and in us. And he did ask me not to post it on Facebook, which for him, also means the entire Internet.

Until next time, keep crowin' and finding inspiration in unexpected places.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Don't Stop Believing

This week, we have a guest blogger - my husband.  He is an engineer, which you normally don't associate with creative writing, but he found something so beautiful it made me cry.  I am sharing it because our country is shrouded in sadness right now, as we once again face the death of innocents, the destruction of futures, the pain of blame and loss.

Now is not the time to stop believing in good or God, now is the time to fight back with love.

Here's the letter my husband gave to our son, who accidentally learned there was no Santa Claus:

I wanted to write a note to you about who is Santa since you have been asking about it and it’s easier for me to choose my words correctly by writing it down. You asked a very good question: “Is there a Santa and are your Mom and Dad Santa?”

I know you’ve wanted the answer to this question for a long time, and I’ve had to give it careful thought to know just what to say.

The answer is no. We are not Santa. There is no one Santa.

We are the people who fill your stockings with presents, though. We also choose and wrap the presents under the tree, the same way our parents did for us.

I imagine you will someday do this for your children, and I know you will love seeing them run down the stairs on Christmas morning. You will love seeing them sit under the tree, their small faces lit with Christmas lights.

This won’t make you Santa, though.

Santa is bigger than any person, and his work has gone on longer than any of us have lived. What he does is simple, but it is powerful. He teaches children how to have belief in something they can’t see or touch.

It’s a big job, and it’s an important one. Throughout your life, you will need this capacity to believe: in yourself, in your friends, in your talents and in your family. You’ll also need to believe in things you can’t measure or even hold in your hand. Here, I am talking about love, that great power that will light your life from the inside out, even during its darkest, coldest moments.

Santa is a teacher, and we have been his student, and now you know the secret of how he gets down all those chimneys on Christmas Eve: he has help from all the people whose hearts he’s filled with joy.

With full hearts, people like Mommy and me take our turns helping Santa do a job that would otherwise be impossible.

So, no. We are not Santa. Santa is love and magic and hope and happiness. We are on his team though, and now you are, too.

We love you and we always will.

Mom and Dad

Until next time, keep crowin' and praying for those who need God to hold their hand a little tighter tonight.

Saturday, December 8, 2012

No One is Safe

You think, "It won't happen in my neighborhood"  or "Things like that only go down in the ghetto."  But today, I learned the all-too-scary reality that crime exists in even the best communities.

I am very sorry to report the murder of these elves, snowmen, and penguins.

I stumbled upon the crime scene as I was driving away from my son's elementary school.  My initial reaction was disbelief, followed by fear, and then anger.  Someone had, in broad daylight, conducted a massive, suburban, drive-by execution.

Not on my watch, people.  

I am going to contact the local news affiliates so that they can alert each and every neighborhood watch and give this crime a proper name, like The Christmas Massacre or Terror in Tinseltown.  We're going to get witness statements on YouTube, and maybe do a few remixes of their best comments.  Merchandise will be sold, and justice will be served.

Of course, there is a very small chance that these people simply deflated their lawn puppets until evening --- but why?  Who would pull down Santa Claus' pants?  Doesn't it scare the children to see the village alive one night and then flaccid and pale in the grass the next day?

The magic is the thing.

I am totally into the magic this year.  My son and I have put together a light show in front of our house that I am sure will receive magazine coverage - maybe Southern Living.

My house ablaze

And then there is my tree.  I promised that this 40-year-old fake tree would be amazing ....

Like puttin' a dress on a pig ....

There is no harsh reality in my Christmas world.  It's Charlie Brown, it's Will Ferrell, it's Chevy Chase, it's Frosty and The Forgotten Toys. 

This holiday, I encourage you to bring joy to the table - don't be the jerk that pops the Baby Jesus balloon.

Until next time, keep crowin' and keep the magic alive!