It’s the day after Thanksgiving, and you know what that means:Â Let Christmas begin!
We kicked off our Christmas celebration with one of our usual traditions: a visit to see Jolly Old Saint Nicholas, known ’round these here parts as The Big Guy.
I’ve written about our encounters with The Big Guy before, how we’ve gone to the same Santa each year and how he teaches me a lesson each time I go. This year was no exception.
We braved the traffic on Black Friday to go see him. Hoping that everyone would be busy shopping or napping from their early morning escapades, we wound our way through the parking lot to Santa’s special cottage. I dropped Matt off to scout the lines and when he indicated we were good to go, the kids hopped out and I set off to park the car.
As I entered his “workshop”, I was instantly greeted by his cheerful laugh and warm hello. At the moment I entered, Santa was busy engaging both of my children in a great big bear hug, which was captured on camera by one of his elves. “You made it just in time!” his cheerful voice called out to me. He smiled, gave the children their coloring books and motioned for me to come over to him. Next thing I knew, he was wrapping ME up in a great big bear hug, as if we were old friends reunited after a long absence.
I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how he felt.
Because, you see, we’ve been coming to this same Santa since Trey was just a baby. This was his first – and only – Santa, the only one we’ve had our “official” Santa pictures taken with each year. We have chronicled our children’s growth by the pictures we’ve had with The Big Guy. And each year, we’ve had the wonderful privilege to visit with him, to say hello, to exchange pleasantries and have a short conversation.
But still, it overwhelms me to think: He remembered ME. Out of all the thousands of families he sees each year, he remembers US.
And in the midst of what had been an emotionally draining, difficult and stressful week, that one little bit of encouragement pierced through my weariness and energized my tired soul. He couldn’t possibly have known the emotional baggage I was carrying with me that day. He couldn’t possibly have understood the tremendous need I had for encouragement. He couldn’t possibly have fathomed the depths of disappointment, discouragement, and fear I was feeling. Regardless, he reached out to me and in a moment, with one simple act, reassured me that there is hope. There is a light at the end of this long, dark tunnel. That even the dreariest of days comes to an end, and that even the darkest of nights eventually burst into the glory of morning.
And it was in that moment I felt the touch of my Father carrying me. Reassuring me that He is there. He hears. He knows. He understands. After all, He is the *original* BIG GUY and there’s nothing He loves more than giving good gifts to His children.