Make-believe.

When I was a kid, my dad had this friend he called Mortimore LeeLee Dirt Nirt Snirt.  Mortimore LeeLee Dirt Nirt Snirt would sometimes come by his office and chat, and inquire about how I was doing and once he brought me a quarter, and one time he sent me a typed postcard.  I never actually met the guy.  He was kind of like Snuffalufagus, and always seemed to have 'just left' whenever I stopped in.  I imagine this came up mostly when I was in kindergarten cause my dad would walk me to and from class every day as the kindergarten was up on campus, just about 300 yards from my dad's office.  So I was with him, and in and out of the office, frequently.  At some point, I started getting a little suspicious and would ask my dad if Mortimore LeeLee Dirt Nirt Snirt was real.  He would shrug and say something that only tended to pique my curiousity further, such as, 'he gave you that quarter once, remember that?'

We used to hike a lot as kids too.  I wasn't a naturally outdoorsy girl, and most certainly wasn't born with a fascination of nature.  Honestly, hikes kinda bored me, and I didn't like to get hot and tired.  I know, big surprise.  My mom would always take my hand and try to get me interested in what was going on around me.  This would include listening for the wind in the trees, and looking around the roots of the trees for little elf houses.  We would look carefully to see if we might see any of the elves scurrying around trying to hide.  We never did catch them but we did see plenty of lovely elf nooks and crannies.

Incidentally, it was my mother, too, that told me about the ghost on the porch.  We used to have a rocking chair out on the porch and when the wind blew, it would rock gently, and my mom would always say, "Oh look, the ghost is back, rocking in the chair again."  And it sure did look like that is exactly what was happening.

Make-believe was a part of my upbringing.  And I always believed in these things with 95% of my heart and soul.  Cause I loved the magic of it.  I never did find out about Mortimore LeeLee Dirt Nirt Snirt.  And I don't know at what precise moment he disappeared from my life.  I suppose I could google him and find out where that story all came from and if it was based on some kind of reality.  But that would kinda ruin something precious about my childhood.  And I'd like to just remember him as real instead.

We also believed in the tooth fairy and Santa Claus.  Not in a "be good for Santa" kind of way, but more in a "cookies and milk" kind of way.  We would leave some cookies out for Santa and Santa always had his name on a couple of packages, usually something like the socks :)  I remember the time I found out Santa wasn't real, absolutely for sure.  Our last name was Sawyer, and my mom used the exact same 'S' on Santa's name as I'd seen her do a thousand times with her own.  I remember at the time thinking, not that I was disappointed, but that I'd figured out a very important clue.  When I was a mom, I was gonna use all block letters so my kids would have to be smarter than that!  And the magic would continue a little bit longer.

So for me.  I like Santa.  I think it's fun.  We do the tooth fairy too, cause how boring would that be if there were no tooth fairy.  That means there would be no tooth fairy pillow!  No tip-toeing around at night in the cherub's bedroom trying to pry a pillow out of his arms without waking him.  I don't do the easter bunny, cause I think it's silly.  I've never heard an interesting easter bunny story, but I suppose if there was one, I'd like that too.  I've never worried about my kids growing up and not believing in Jesus just because he was disappointed by the Santa magic.  To me that would be like worrying that my kid will still wet the bed in college.  Or worse, that he'd still call dreams 'pictures' instead of dreams.  (When Ben starts calling his dreams by their proper names, well, that'll be just a sad sad day.) Don't we all want them to hold on to their little childhoods as long as reasonably possible?

I like Santa.  But Santa is small, Jesus is BIG.  Santa brings a toy.  Jesus bring Salvation. Santa brings magic dust.  Jesus brings miracles.  Santa sneaks down the chimney at midnight.  Jesus lives in our hearts. 

And if we're doing it right, we shall teach the words of God "diligently to [our] children, and shall talk of them when [we] sit in [our] house, when [we] walk by the way, when [we] lie down, and when [we] rise up." Deut. 6:7 

A story of elves in the forest shouldn't derail that kind of lifestyle.  If anything, it should enhance the mystery of it.

 

My mom gave me this little Santa cookie jar...now we just need cookies!