A Few Precious Moments with Herr Kringle

Went to the local mall tonight. Don't often go, and no, I wasn't shopping. Thought I'd get a salad at the local Ruby T's.

And then I wen into the mall. And I didn't go to Ruby T's...

I found myself instead standing at Santa's workshop... Looking in from the outside. Watching the parade of youngsters being plopped onto his lap - some happy, some mortally terrified. The parents as often listening closely for that desperate hint of what their precious munchkin wants Santa to bring... As those parents who just want the "Perfect Picture".

I didn't recognize Santa; at least, not this Santa. I asked one of the indigenous elves if Santa worked in this workshop last year... They thought so, but weren't sure. I asked if I could speak to Santa. (Being in uniform probably didn't hurt my chances at jumping the long line, but being a Soldier had nothing to do with my request.)

The elf held up the line, and I approached Santa. I asked if he'd worked last year, and he had not. He look tired, the weight of many cranky cherubs possibly weighing upon him. I decided to tell him a story.

He held my hand tightly in his gloved one... And I looked right into his eyes, for otherwise I wasn't sure if I could do this.

I told him of a family of small children who'd spent a few Christmases overseas where you Santa doesn't host as many "Open Workshops". How the five of us and two of the grandparents had delighted in watching what was for two of them, a new experience with the great, mystical Mr. C, and for our older, a new memory.

And then, how when all of the children had taken their turn, tugged his beard, and enjoyed their moment of joy, I witnessed a Christmas miracle I'll never forget.

How, purely on a whim, I'd turned to E and asked her, playfully, "Would YOU like to talk to Santa?" and her face beamed as I wheeled her over to Santa. The two shared a conversation that brought PURE JOY AND PEACE to the face of the woman who was so often wracked with pain. No one knows what was said -- and we never will, nor is it important what the words are as the substance was clear.

It became (officially) the Last Picture as E was dead barely a week later.



But, as I told Herr Kringle tonight, for that moment, and ever on now, I have no doubt that Santa is real. He brought E Christmas... And to all of us, the spirit and joy of Christmas.

And so it was, that with tears streaming down my cheek, I THANKED Santa tonight... Something I've waited nearly a year to do. And Santa gave me a big, tight hug.

Merry Christmas.

(Blast from the past...)