Feliz Navidad!

Merry Christmas everybody! It's 4 am and I'm sitting here watching TBS's 24 hour marathon of

A Christmas Story, but I'm about to switch to the Futurama Holiday Special (on DVD, of course). I'm still up because I was finishing Christmas presents (pictures later), and it has been a CRAZY day full of what we might as well call Christmas miracles.

Driving home from picking up lunch today, I lost my brakes. As in, was unable to stop without considerable effort and smoke. Luckily I was down the street from a place that does brakes and got the car in. For the low low price of $926, I have a new rotor and caliper on the front driver's side, new pads on all four brakes, and a freshly flushed brake system with new fluid. But the important thing is, I'm alive and my vehicle will now pass state inspection.

I had to cut the gift-making short to go sing in the choir at St. Clement's, which I have to say was a great time tonight! I missed going to the usual Christmas Eve party but had a good time with the choir nonetheless and enjoyed both services. The Church is decorated beautifully at Christmas! Here, Karen and I show off our Christmas vestments (finding a set that fit was interesting) in front of the altar:

At Christmas, I am always reminded of how magical my mother managed to make it. We broke with tradition in almost every way (opening gifts on Christmas Eve, cornish hens instead of turkey, the artsy-fartsy tree) but my favorite is our family's Christmas poem. Most people are used to hearing The Night Before Christmas, but my family has Mrs. Claus, a poem written by a female ancestor of mine who was obviously way ahead of her time in the feminist movement. My grandmother used to read it to my mom and my aunt while she made the divinity. It's passed down almost exclusively through oral tradition, and I have to think about it to write it. I've been able to recite it since I was ten:

Of all the busy people this happy Christmas time,

none work like Mrs. Claus for days and nights besides.

The good old Saint her husband has so much to do,

if Mrs. Claus did not take hold they never would get through.

Their home is bright and cheery; they call it Reindeer Hall.

Icicles stick fast to the roof and icebergs form the walls.

The Northern Star, bright and shining, gives all the light they need,

For How to Climb the Chimney is the only book they read.

There's dolls in all the corners, there's dolls in all the chairs

piled high in every cupboard shelf and way up the front stairs.

But not a stitch of clothing on any can be seen-

Old Santa Claus is nice, but he can't sew on a machine.

So Mrs. Claus is busy making petticoats and sacks,

and there are all the shirts to make for all the jumping jacks.

And long clothes for the babies, and hats and caps and capes.

All the dresses must be cut in the very latest shapes.

Bright on the fire a kettle boils, making such a noise-

the lid pops up, how good they smell! Those lemon candy toys.

Such lots of candy cooking, such stacks of chocolate spice,

the kitchen is a sticky place, so sticky but so nice.

The reindeer must be harnessed, the toys packed in the sleigh,

and old Santa Claus wrapped up in furs to ride so far away.

Then Mrs. Claus he kisses and says,

"My dear, I don't believe I'll be back home till nearly New Year's Eve"

And then away he dashes, as Mrs. Claus does call,

"Be careful how you climb. I'll worry lest you fall!"

And old Santa Claus is smiling,

"I never in my life could do so much for boys and girls without so good a wife!"

One of our family's favorite Christmas movies was Prancer. I won't give away too many plot details, but the movie is precious. I cry like crazy at the end every time. The basic premise is that child-like faith and hope are more often right than wrong. Near the end of the movie, the main character's father reads her a portion from the famous "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus."

That's the part that gets me every time. Whether or not you embrace a religion, your willingness to believe in the unseen is important. It means that you will have an open mind. It means that you will look beyond the usual answers. It means that you are able to accept that something bigger than you is at work in the world, be it God or just the law of gravity.

My parents were so good at being Santa Claus that I believed in a very true sense until I was in the 7th grade. And I will always believe in the spirit of Santa Claus-because, as my mother told me, "as long as parents love their children, there will always be a Santa Claus." I'm so thankful to my mom for teaching me that it's ok to believe in the things you can't see.

"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old. "Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. "Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.' "Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus? "VIRGINIA O'HANLON. "115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET." VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge. Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished. Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world. You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.