During my life as a mother — part of my faith journey and that of our family can be documented by the role of Santa Claus in our holiday celebrations.

Stage One:  I was a ‘collector’ of Santa Claus. I loved him!  The traditional version, the historical version, the chic version, and the classic version. Every nook and cranny had a Santa Claus. Both our girls were avid ‘believers‘.

Stage Two: Santa’s gift giving moderated. He brought 3 gifts for each child and left them in a particular chair in the living room. I stopped obsessing collecting.

Stage Three: We began transferring our daughters’ affection from Santa to St. Nicholas. At least he was real. Thankfully, I had the sense to not fall for the nativity scenes with Santa holding baby Jesus!

Stage Four: Our third child was born and he never knew Santa. I got rid most every Santa figure. We still have 4, I cannot part with them because of the memories. It was liberating to not have to suffer through the moment when your child realizes {often traumatized} that Santa does not exist.

So as my faith in Christ progressed, as I desired for my family to love our Savior and not the Santa; Santa’s role and place in our lives diminished.

I am not going to lie and say it was easy. It was actually heart-wrenching. Even this year, there is a huge part of me that is somewhat, irrationally, sad that we don’t participate with the world. I am not going to go so far as to say that Santa is sinful. But what I will say is that the whole Santa experience is representative of sin in my life.

Drawn into the glitter, the promise of joy, the desire to be satisfied, the magic, the experience,
and the world.

Dividing my heart between 2 masters.

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