Thomas Nast's Santa Claus

I love Christmas … and I make no bones about it. I love the decorations, the food and the time with family and friends. I particularly enjoy believing in Christmas magic, especially as embodied in Santa Claus.

I’ve always liked the response a little girl received when she asked about Santa. Church did a great job explaining. But I’ve always wanted more, a better explanation for why to believe in Santa Claus. Here’s an essay GKChesterton penned that says, in a much better way than I ever could, EXACTLY why I believe …

What has happened to me appears to be the very reverse of what appears to be the experience of most of my friends. Instead of dwindling to a point, Santa Claus has grown larger and larger in my life until he fills almost the whole of it. It happened in this way. As a child I was faced with a phenomenon requiring explanation. I hung up at the end of my bed an empty stocking, which in the morning became a full stocking. I had done nothing to produce the things that filled it. I had not worked for them, or made them, or helped to make them. I had not even been good – far from it. And the explanation was that a certain being who people called Santa Claus was benevolently disposed towards me…What we believed was that a certain benevolent agency did give us those toys for nothing. And, as I say, I believe it still. I have merely extended the idea. Then I only wondered who put the toys in the stocking; now I wonder who put the stocking by the bed, and the bed in the room, and the room in the house, and the house on the planet, and the great planet in the void. Once I only thanked Santa Claus for a few dollars and crackers. Now I thank him for stars and street faces, and wine and the great sea. Once I thought it delightful and astonishing to find a present so big that it only went halfway into the stocking. Now I am delighted and astonished every morning to find a present so big that it takes two stockings to hold it, and then leaves a great deal outside; it is the large and preposterous present of myself, as to the origin of which I can offer no suggestion except that Santa Claus gave it to me in a fit of peculiarly fantastic goodwill.

God rest you merry, Gentlemen and never forget the magic of the season!

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