The Day That Santa Cried

The holidays have always been one of my favorite times of the year. As a child, there was so much to look forward to. We got a week or two off from school, there were parties and family gatherings and of course, presents. But as an adult, I learned that not all children are blessed with the idyllic holiday memories that I have. Some children dread the long cold days at home, with not enough to eat and rarely any holiday festivities let alone gifts. I was afforded an opportunity to get a glimpse into this harsh reality in the early ’90s when my son was just a small boy.

 

A group of co-workers had a holiday tradition of adopting an elementary school in one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city, the area was aptly referred to as the Bottoms. I was invited to participate in their fundraising effort and became even more excited to help when my father told me that several of my relatives had attended that same school many decades earlier. From my first visit to the school, I knew that I would never look at my holiday memories or any of my childhood memories quite the same. These children barely had enough to survive let alone thrive. School was a place for them to get food when there was none at home and where someone would look out for them when parents were absent from their lives.

 

The plan to give these children a real Christmas was growing more and more important to me with each visit. Our goal was to raise enough money to provide each child with a backpack of goodies. And when I say goodies, I mean socks, underwear, books, school supplies, hygiene products, and a single toy. I remember thinking that in my childhood these would not be the gifts of choice but, sadly, these little ones understood far more than I did about necessities and their true value.

 

Over the course of the year, the group hosted bake sales, yard sales, and raffles to raise the money needed to give these children just a fraction of what I recalled from my childhood holidays. We were even fortunate enough to have money for a few extras this particular year. Now each child would get a wristwatch and a calculator, as well as the other items we had selected. As the big day grew near, I think I was more excited than the children, even though they had been told that Santa would be making a special trip down from the North Pole just to wish them a Merry Christmas.

 

On the last day of school before the holiday break, we brought as much holiday cheer to that 100-year-old school as we could possibly find. And as promised, Santa made a special appearance. Each class filed into Santa’s room starting with the tiny kindergarteners. I remember thinking how well behaved they were considering each was waiting for his or her turn to sit on Santa’s lap and get a picture taken. Then after the picture, Santa gave the little girls a doll and the little boys were given a truck. These were simple toys and not the most expensive, as we were buying hundreds of them, but to these children, they were clearly going to be treasured.

 

After one class had all gotten their gifts and pictures with Santa, a little girl of about 5 or 6 got out of line and walked back to Santa. She wanted to say thank you again. As she did, she reached around her neck and took off a tattered piece of red yarn that had a single tiny jingle bell on it. She held it up to Santa and told him that this was for him to give to his reindeer. Santa had a hard time finding his voice but told her thank you and that she should keep her bell necklace. But she insisted that Santa have it. Poor Santa had been pretty warm down in the lower 48 and had beads of sweat on his brow most of the day, but now he clearly had tears streaming down his cheeks as well. That gift from a child who had nothing was the true meaning of Christmas in its purest form, and it touched every grownup heart in the room.

 

Santa wasn’t such a draw for the older kids, so we walked from room to room and passed out the backpacks filled with gifts. I was amazed to see the excitement over underwear and inexpensive digital watches. I only wished that we could have done more for those children as they were so appreciative and sweet. And because of the amazing gifts that they gave me. Now I look back at my holiday memories with a little more gratitude for the time that I shared with my loved ones and the life that I was fortunate enough to be given. I still close my eyes and see all of those children’s smiling faces as they helped me to grasp the true meaning of Christmas, and I am thankful for each one of them.

 

It’s been over 20 years since that amazing holiday season spent with those children, but I know that Santa has not forgotten a single child who sat on his lap that day, stretched up to hug his neck and who literally jumped off his lap grasping a brand new toy and smiling from ear to ear. And there is a special place in his heart for the little girl who gave him her bell for his reindeer. There is also a special place for that bell. It never made it to a reindeer, but it does reside in a very special box with Santa’s father’s wedding band as well as his grandfather’s ring. And each time it comes out of that box another tiny tear runs down his cheek. Santa is a lot of things to a lot of children, but this Santa is extra special to me because he is my husband.