I am Santa. Not the jolly old man who lives at the North Pole. Nah, he sleeps too much and doesn’t keep a job year-round. I’m one of his helpers, so to speak, with a regular job during the months Kris Kringle isn’t so popular.
I recently completed my fourth year being Santa Claus. The first two years, I was in the largest mall in Stockton, CA. The second two were spent in Portland’s Lloyd Center. I typically see between 5,000 and 6,000 visitors per year. The professional Santa season starts two weeks before Thanksgiving, running all day, every day, through Christmas Eve (with the exception of Thanksgiving Day). I am writing to let the public know that most opinions of Santa Claus in the world of retail sales is quite a bit askew of the truth of what men like me can, and do accomplish in this position. Granted, families might find a mediocre Santa here and there but those Santas are “culled out” when possible. While not all take the job for the right reasons, the ones that do are overlooked.
I know I have achieved something when a terrified child is brought to me and, in a handful of minutes, they prefer to stay with me rather than leave with mommy or daddy. I know I have gained a friend when I can hug a teenage boy who started out self-conscious, but later admits to not having been hugged for several months. I know I have made a difference when I’m asked to speak via phone to an 18-year-old boy dying from a five-year struggle with cancer, then his family sees me near his death to tell me how important that short conversation was to them. I know I have shown others kindness and listened to their problems when an adult couple asks me what church I am the pastor of so they can start attending my church and have me perform their marriage ceremony. I know this because moms, dads, aunts, uncles, grandparents, foster parents, and siblings tell my helpers or me that I made a positive impact on someone.
I have discovered that I am an exceptional Santa. However, there are other Saint Nicks out there whose hearts are in the right place, as well. We are put into a tremendous position where social walls are removed and we can show the love of Christmas in all its glory. I am to selling a product, but touching lives. They cry. I cry and offer my shoulder to wipe their tears. They laugh. I join in. When they are frightened, I try to make friends. When they have a burden to carry, I pull some of the weight by listening.
Here’s how I view my role:
I am clothed from head to foot in red and white. While some children are extremely frightened because of the boldness of color and unusualness of the suit, I view my attire differently. The red represents the blood of Jesus and white the purity of God’s love. I am a living Christmas present that a child can publicly open just a smidge. They take a peek inside to see and experience a sip of God’s love, then close it up for the next child. I’m like a magic box. When you open up to me I sprinkle you with a bit of magic and love. The children’s faces light up for just a moment. Their smiles get a little bit bigger and their hearts become a little more open.
To have the ability to touch thousands of hearts, to briefly speak into the lives of children as well as adults is an amazing gift. Yet to be so strongly and regularly rejected by (insert religious affiliation here) is showing that even those associated with (insert religious affiliation here) can react from a viewpoint of ignorance and miss out on a tremendous living example of what the love of Christmas can be. I am showing more love to thousands of people in a matter of weeks than some people, not just (insert religious affiliation here,) show in a lifetime. Each experience is different from the next and each child leaves as much of an impact on me as I’m sure I’ve left on them.
Sometimes, I wish Hollywood would get my story and the story of other Santas right. Movie Santas smoke, smell of burritos, are rude to kids, or ogle women. It is rare to see a movie where Santa is a kind man who actually talks to children, adolescents, and adults alike about their problems or dreams, not just about what they want for Christmas. That is the story that needs to be told.
Brian Trembley Woodland
