The real Superhero

I used to tell people that my husband, Ken, believed in Santa Claus. We have grown children now, but throughout our married life I have done the shopping, and Ken (at the latest moment possible) buys for me. So, on Christmas morning, when our kids were small, he was as surprised as the kids where all the gifts came from. That may be a slight stretch, since if anything required assembling he had to do it, but to be a bystander during the busiest month of the year is certainly a privileged position. Our family has grown to 22 people and, even with help now, it is a daunting task to buy for everyone.

My daughter, Melissa, is an overachiever like her mom. She cooks and bakes, entertains, and buys and ships.One of her self-imposed traditions is to make her own Biscotti, along with a myriad of other Christmas cookies. While delicious, if you have never made Biscotti, the thing that adds to the 'incredibleness' of her making it at Christmastime is that it has to be baked twice.  Her husband, Gary, is much like Ken (an observer) and scolds her because she stresses out.  But, the truth of it is, the season is replete with overkill for most of us.

One Christmas holiday, when our youngest daughter was about nine, I was watching a Christmas broadcast. The minister had the nerve to announce that "Santa is a myth' in prime time. Emily was walking through the room about that time. She walked on, so I thought "Phew. She missed that.", but a few moments later she came back, stood in front of me, and asked, "Is that true?" I knew what she wanted, but said, "Is what true?" Emily - "What he said about Santa.; that he's a myth." My genius answer was, "Every culture has a different idea about Santa, and each one has a slightly different myth, but, yes, he's a myth." "Oh." she said and left the room. I decided to leave it there. When curious about something, Emily was not a child who left things alone.

The next day she bounced out of her bedroom, announcing, "There are only twelve more days until Santa comes." I waited for her to add a disclaimer, but none came. She simply wasn't ready to digest that Mom and Dad were Santa. And, for two more years, whether she did believe, or not, we played the game.

The child in all of us wants a Superhero. I think Santa is preferable to Spider-man or Spider-woman. The season's true meaning was never lost on us, and our children's ideas of God and the Savior he sent were not diminished by Santa. If anything, they were more diminished in seeing their spiritually flawed parents working out their salvation before their little eyes. The magic of Christmas is that most of us somehow seem less flawed in the midst of the nostalgia and fuss, generosity and giving, smells and songs, and festivity that surrounds us and remind us of family; and of one very special family in particular. God, who is not a myth, gave his precious Son a daddy and a mommy. 

How amazing it is that, overall,  it isn't Santa that offends the masses...the more of them the merrier. It is the picture of that particular mommy and daddy, kneeling before a manger, that creates the frenzy. 

But, for one more year, the carols ring throughout the world, reminding mankind that the best gift came a long time ago. The real Superhero came as a baby and was laid in a manger. And, the mystery is, how some parents would rather their kids believed in Spiderman.