Do You Believe In Santa Claus

Believe in Santa.

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma.

I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her
on the day my big sister dropped the bomb:

"There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day
because I knew she would be straight with me.

I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always
went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous"
cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so.
It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm.
Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me.

"No Santa Claus?" She snorted....

"Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years ,
and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second
world-famous cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that
had a little bit of just about everything.

As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a
bundle in those days.

"Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it.
I'll wait for you in the car.

"Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's. I was only eight years old.
I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for
anything all by myself.

The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish
their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused ,
clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to
buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the
kids at school, and the people who went to my church.

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He
was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in
Mrs. Pollock's grade-two cla$$..

Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to
recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the
teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't
have a cough; he just didn't have a good coat.

I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby
Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm,
and he would like that.

"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked
kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a
good winter coat.

I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and
wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the
coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and
wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it.

Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy.

Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that
I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept
noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.

Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get
going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on
his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and
Grandma.

Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open.
Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering,
beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes.

That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just
what Grandma said they were:
ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

May you always have LOVE to share, HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care...

And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!

Morfoot; A man goes thru three stages of life

#1 You believe in Santa Claus

#2 You dont believe in Santa Claus

#3 YOU ARE SANTA CLAUS

Grandkids are cooler than old boats,
I get to relive my youth thru them.
And yes there is a Santa.

Merry Christmas to all my friends at C/C Fan

           Boat dr

"May you always have Love to share, Health to spare, and Friends who care"

What a great line boat dr. It is my wish for all you guys and Blondie, here on the site where we all get together. I have met so many cool people here and spent so much great time with you all. Some in person and some on line.

I hope that everyone here has a great, safe Blessed, Holiday Season. Remember the reason for the season.

john

Great story Dr. Santa.Wishing all a merry Christmas

Munday

69 mustang, after reading your reply i thought that this would help. i have freinds all over the world that i have yet to meet,and you my boy are one of them,hope this helps during this holiday season.........................boat dr

Are there some people in your circle of friends to whom you naturally go in
your times of trial and sorrow--people who always seem to say just the right
words and who give you the very counsel you desire?
If so, you may not realize the high cost they have paid to become so skilled
at binding up your gaping wounds and drying your tears.

Yet if you were to investigate their past, you would find that they have suffered more then most other people.

They have watched the silver cord on which the lamp of life hung, slowly
unravel.

They have seen the golden bowl of joy smashed at their feet, and its contents spilled.

They have experienced raging tides, withering crops and darkness at high noon,
but all this has been necessary to make them into those 'ministers" to others.

Cartons containing spices from the Orient may be cumbersome to ship and
slow in coming, but once they arrive, their beautiful fragrances fill the air.

In the same way, suffering is trying and difficult to bear, but hiding just
below its surface is discipline, knowledge, and limitless possibilities. Each
of these not only strengthens us and matures us, but also equips us to help others.