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I distinctly remember some “friends” of mine feeling sorry for me because my parents never let me believe in Santa. We actually got into heated battles over it because they felt my childhood was deprived of the right to believe in something “magical”. I laugh at the memory of those arguments and their stupidity even today…

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Let me make something clear: IF YOU WANT YOUR KIDS TO BELIVE IN SANTA, GO FOR IT, BUT RESPECT THAT MINE WILL NOT.

Trust me that I didn’t grow up to resent my parents for not allowing me to believe in Santa, nor do I harbor a cynical reality of Christmas because I don’t see it’s “magic”. If anything, my love for Christmas has always been not because of presents under the tree or whether I was naughty or nice, but because of what this time represents.

It’s a season of love and miracles….

My memories of Christmas are special because of my family, not some strange fat guy who broke into my house and judged me all year to see whether or not I was worthy of gifts. My parents bought those gifts under the tree because of their love for us and they wanted us to have some things we wanted. That meant more to me than some fairy tale used to control me when I was bad. If I was bad I feared my parents, not some old man who doesn’t know how to update his wardrobe.

Because I learned the real meaning of Christmas as a child, there are some fundamental things I have today that I would never trade.

  1. I know my parents never lied to me. I can honestly say as an adult my parents never “made believe” or “pretended” anything. They were always honest and upfront and my trust in them today comes from that. I respect them for standing up for the truth when it’s so much easier to “go with the flow”.
  2. My vision of Christmas wasn’t shattered. Growing up I saw the kids that once believed in Santa actually find out that he wasn’t real. I was on the playground with those kids and, you know what, they were angry. Some of them felt stupid for believing in a fairy tale for so long. They turned around to bully the kids that actually did still believe. Not a pretty sight when you’re seven or eight.
  3. Christmas was never about me. Focusing on a man who was judging my behavior meant I had to be good to get what I want. But knowing the real meaning of Christmas, that Jesus was born to be the savior of the world and He would eventually be killed for us so we could be saved, meant that Christmas was for others. Giving is always better than receiving, as we learn by Christ’s example.
  4. My parents took full responsibility for parenting. I never heard: “Santa isn’t going to like how you’re behaving”. What I did hear was “Wait until your father gets home” or “Does your mother know what you’re doing?”. My parents were the authority in my house under God. The only exception to that was when I heard “Would you watch that television show if Jesus was sitting next to you?” Kinda hard to argue that one…

I understand the glamour of believing in Santa. It’s a cute story to get your kids to try and believe in the possibility of the impossible; A man who travels all over the world in one night to spread gifts and happiness. It’s definitely a much happier story than a 15 year old girl conceiving the Son of God and giving birth in a dirty stable – I get it.

But, for me, I would never want Jesus or God to share the spotlight with anyone, no matter how much easier or cute the idea. I thank my parents for giving me the truth and it’s something I will continue with my own children. As I said, if you want your kids, nieces, nephews, grandchildren to believe in Santa, that’s not my business – I won’t spoil your fun. But, in the same respect, my home is a Santa Free Zone and the only important one will be Jesus.

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