Santa Died When I was 3 (A continued Christmas Evolution)

DISCLAIMER - If you are an Elf on the Shelf loving, Reindeer feeding, Santa Claus fanatic, this post is probably not for you. Just skip it and move along. No hard feelings. No angry banter. I'm not writing this to argue the merits of killing Santa. That's why I'm writing this in January. Christmas has come and gone. Your elf has returned to the North Pole, the reindeer have cleaned up the yard, Santa has made his deliveries and eaten his cookies, and, more than likely, you are either growing weary of the decorations or have already put them up. Christmas is now a memory and the next one is nearly a year away so we are able to reflect thoughtfully without emotions being quite so raw. If you're content with what you're doing and why you're doing it, then okay. 

BUT

 if you're honestly wrestling with the merits and ramifications of what you've been doing and trying to find words to explain your discomfort, read on, wrestle on, and be challenged.

OR

 if you feel like the only crazy parent in this world that doesn't "DO" Christmas like every other human being around you, read on and be encouraged. You are not alone...

Santa died when I was 3. It's one of my first truly cognizant memories. Angie, an older, wiser girl from down the street killed him. Don't worry, his demise was painless. She looked at me and very matter of fact said, "You know Santa's not real, right? It's just your parents."

And then I did. 

There was no great drama. My heart was not broken. My soul was not crushed. My imagination was not instantly erased. I didn't scream an agonizing wail that it just couldn't be so. I just nodded and kept playing...and when we were done playing, I went home.

The difficulty was going to be breaking it to my parents.

So I did what any other 3 year old would do, I broke it to them gently in an official "sit down". For weeks, they had been feeding me some line about Santa having lost the pattern to a specific doll I wanted and how I might have to settle for a "similarly" patterned doll. After dinner, one of them mentioned it again, reminding me that I might have to accept a "lesser" doll. They opened the door so I broke it to them as gently as I could. 

"It's ok. I know he's not real so you might not be able to get it. 

Oh and if I'm adopted, you can tell me that too." 

(I had recently watched a lot of Annie and Pollyanna and I was convinced that I was adopted...I am not.)

I honestly don't remember their reaction except they told me that I couldn't be like Angie and tell other kids. It was between them and their parents...and they left it at that...and so did I.

I don't remember how we pressed on that Christmas without "Santa". I actually don't have any real childhood memories of Santa, except for the year he died, and yet all of my Christmas memories are still deep and beautiful and magical and precious. Santa was never really a part of my Christmas, which prepared me for the realization that he doesn't really have to be a part of any of our Christmases. 

I know, now I'm speaking American Christmas heresy...but hear me out.

Years clearly went by and I clearly survived every single Christmas. In fact, I would probably be so bold to say that my understanding that Santa wasn't real made Christmas easier for my parents and "richer" for all of us. (I will try and verify this with my parents and brother, but for now, just take my word for it.) 

My dad didn't have to stay up all night long frantically piecing together a bicycle or doll house or basketball goal so that it was finished when we woke up. Instead, we had fun sometimes working with him to put it together. Memory making.

My mom would hide presents all over the house throughout the year and then lock herself into her bedroom for an all out wrapping party (complete with extra tape because I was known for my ability to open and re-wrap presents). It was so much fun when she emerged with all the gifts and we would immediately look for the name tags and guess at what each of us received. Memory making.

My brother and I, as far as I recall, made reasonable requests. Knowing that our presents weren't made from elf sweat and candy cane dust but instead from our parents hard, hard work, made us more aware of the real cost of what we were asking for. We knew our family's budget and I think we asked accordingly. And if we didn't, our parents were able to look at us and honestly tell us that they would love to give us that item but it just wasn't in the budget. In doing so, they taught us a life lesson, and we embraced it. Memory making.

My parents had us take turns and open presents one at a time. Christmas was not a selfish free for all. We took the time to look at what we got as well as what everyone else got. It made us slow down and savor each and every gift for ourselves and for everyone else. We got to see our parents take delight in giving the gifts. We got to see the recipient take delight in receiving our gifts. We learned to give and receive well. Memory making.

My parents often made opening presents more like a scavenger hunt. They might wrap a tiny box inside a refrigerator box with a note leading you from one clue to the next. We took so much delight in running throughout the house and up in the attic and under the beds, only to find that sometimes our gift was in plain sight. Memory making.

My parents didn't have to come up with elaborate explanations or schemes when we moved away from family. Santa didn't have to make an early drop off or a detour. We opened our presents when we could so that we could still make it to be with family because being with family was way more important than anything in those boxes. Memory making.

So years like this passed...and I got married. I just happened to marry a guy who also didn't have Santa as an integral part of his Christmas fabric either but how we as a family would inevitably handle Santa wasn't part of our early marital conversations. 

Then we had close friends who had kids...and did Santa. 

Then we had family who had kids...and did Santa.

And, in general, we didn't like what we saw. Long, long before even the thought of children, we began to make decisions on Santa. We wouldn't do it. We couldn't do it. We would have none of it.

Because my husband is in the ministry, most people make the assumption that we "don't do Santa" because of deep, theological reasons. While those certainly have developed and deepened over time with prayerful consideration and careful study, the initial reason we decided against doing "Santa" was much simpler than that.

What we saw in kids that we knew, kids from good homes, was greed and ingratitude beyond compare. They savagely and selfishly approached Christmas. After all, they had no one to really "thank" for their gift and, in their minds, the gifts hadn't cost anyone anything, except some elf sweat and candy cane dust. So why not ask for the moon? And why appreciate it once you get it? 

This was definitely NOT something we wanted to encourage in our children.

What we saw in parents that we knew, hard-working christian parents, was panic to make their kids elaborate requests a reality, even when it was WAY outside the family's budget.  Parents were either forced to come up with elaborate stories (like Santa ran out of the pattern or he doesn't deliver that to kids your age, etc), blow their budget, or shoot straight with their kid and just tell them no. More than once I saw adults who were typically excellent stewards of their money compromise so as to not disappoint their kids...in Santa.

This was definitely NOT a position we wanted to find ourselves in.

So we decided that Santa, the mythical man in red who will bring you your every whim and desire IF you are good (we will get to that in a moment), would NOT be a part of our Christmas life, EVER. People told us that when we had kids we would change our minds, that our hearts would "soften" to the idea and wonder of Santa, but I would say quite the opposite has happened. 

With each passing year, with each child added, our reasons for not making Santa a part of our Christmas life have become deeper, clearer, sharper, and more defined. We now have WAY more of a foundation for not including him then we ever did in the beginning. What may have started out as a desire for our kids to be grateful and not greedy has become so much more than that.

So here you go...the list of all the reasons we don't "do" Santa...

• Greed - covered
• Gratitude - covered
• Realistic requests - covered
• Honesty - Although everyone assumes this should be our first reason, it never occurred to me that this should even be a reason for not including Santa until a really close friend of mine asked me if I had heard of "Elf on the Shelf", a brand new trend at the time. I said I hadn't and her husband's response was, "They probably aren't going to lie to their kids about Santa." I had never thought about it but he was right. I tell my kids all the time to tell the truth no matter what. I tell my kids all the time that they can trust me to tell them the truth. If you know our family's story, you know that all 4 of my kids are adopted and all 4 need to know that they can trust me. (Sidenote: I believe this to be true for all kids.) How could I intentionally deceive them, especially for something so meaningless? I couldn't. I wouldn't. 
• Santa god Theology - Here's where it gets deep people. Whether we like it or not, we've made Santa into a god like figure. Think about it. He sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when your awake. He knows if you've been bad or good so be good for goodness sake. The myth of Santa has some omnipotent powers ascribed to him, seemingly limited to just Christmas antics but certainly capable of far more than any man. He is omnipresent, seeing every little boy and girl all over the world at once. He is omniscient, seemingly limited to just your behavior but certainly capable of far more than any man....and he is eternal. Do you hear the falsities once you play them out? Here's the problem with that, GOD and ONLY GOD is omnipotent. GOD and ONLY GOD is omnipresent. GOD and ONLY GOD is omniscient. GOD and ONLY GOD is eternal. I don't want my kids to ever, ever, ever think otherwise. Why would I compromise teaching them truth in this one place? I couldn't. I wouldn't. 
• Works Based Theology - BUT the problem gets even bigger. This whole concept reinforces a works based theology, and frankly, quite inconsistently so. Here he is, this god like being who will determine what you get for Christmas solely based on the balance of your good to bad deeds. If you run a good ratio, you'll get good presents. If you don't, you'll get coal. So we teach our kids to buckle down and be better so they can even out the scale in their favor. They work to make Santa happy so they can get stuff from him. Friends, this is every other religion outside of Christ. We don't have to teach our kids about legalism. They get it. They get the idea that the world (and unfortunately sometimes even us) love and value them for what they do. What they DON'T get is that there is a God, an omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient God, who loves them for who they are and for what CHRIST did. Why would I reinforce a concept that the entire new testament, ushered in with Christ's birth at Christmas, preaches so fiercely against? I wouldn't. I couldn't.
• Compassion for the impoverished - So here's the deal - these mythical theologies intersect with our very real lives and real decisions have to be made regarding them. Let's assume you are parents of a 4 year old and full out Santa promoters. Let's assume you are also followers of Jesus who wholeheartedly believe in intervening in the lives of others by providing for those less fortunate. So here comes Christmas and all it's trappings but also all of it's opportunities for generosity. First up is Operation Christmas Child. You want to teach your child to be generous so you pick up two boxes and take them to the store to fill them up. You explain to your precious little sweet one that these are the only presents these children will get, toss it all in, rubber band it, and send the box on its way. Soon, there are more opportunities to give. So you pick a kid up off of the Angel Tree or the Salvation Army Tree, you sponsor a few local foster kids or kids from a local outreach ministry. You take your sweet little 4 year old shopping for these kiddos to raise awareness and compassion and tell them, once again, that these are the only Christmas presents these kids will probably get. You buy them, bag them, and send the presents on their way, never giving another thought to it. BUT if you "do" Santa, your 4 year old might be rummaging some thoughts in their little heads and hearts. You see, your mythical Santa visits everyone. Your mythical Santa gives good toys to every good boy and girl...so the only conclusion to be drawn is that these are clearly not good boys and girls because they weren't good enough to get presents from Santa.  (Sidenote - I find it so interesting that the real "Santa" chose to give to the poor. Never is there any mention of him giving to those who already have plenty. Somehow we have terribly twisted one man's compassionate work into an excuse to bless the blessed. I digress...) Honestly, for us and the way we approach our life as a family, the myth of Santa just doesn't match up with the life we live, investing in orphans, vulnerable children, and the financially impoverished. Why would I ever want my kids to believe that the orphans, vulnerable children and financially impoverished kids we give to lacked material blessings because they were "bad"? I wouldn't. I couldn't. 

I already know exactly what you're thinking. My parents did Santa. I don't think it made me greedy, ungrateful, unrealistic, unable to trust my parents, theologically mis-aligned or lacking compassion. I have fond memories of Santa and I want my kids to have fond memories of Santa too...

I get it, I really do. 

You survived. I survived. Millions of people survived. 

You just want your kids to have the same amazing Santa memories that you had.

I understand.

BUT...

This world has changed a lot in the last ___________ years. 

(For me that's 36)

Kids are different.

Expectations are different.

Approaches are different.

Exposure is different.

Everything is way more elaborate and muddled and confusing

 than it was when we were kids.

And we just have to inevitably ask ourselves, 

What do we want more for our kids?

Do we want more Santa memories...

or do we want more Jesus memories?

(more on that soon...)