Lessons from Santa’s knee

Dec 12, 2018
3 min read

God, I wrote that title and gagged a little bit, its overtly saccharine taste left in my mouth. One might expect, from that title, an article similar to the song, Grown Up Christmas List, full of prodigious ideas one might find at a Miss America pageant: “All I want is world peace,” or “I hope for no one on earth to ever be hungry,” or some other preposterous and ethereal wish.

You know, fairy tale shit.

But I spent last night watching my three year old nephew bawl at the sight of Santa Claus. He was happily running, jumping, and giggling, until we arrived into the room where the big man sat upon his high wingback chair, welcoming good boys and girls into his lap to whisper in his ear the mounds of treasures they desired for Christmas.

Idyllic situation versus reality:

Above photo (left) by Mike Arney on Unsplash Above photo (right) by Arwan Sutanto on Unsplash

For anyone who’s ever had or known a child with any sense of stranger danger, Santa is terrifying. There he sits, this big man with a big beard in a bigger sleigh and then the parental units of said child tell them to go and SIT ON HIS LAP and TALK TO HIM. Are you mad?

As the aunt, I have less investment in the toddler’s reaction. You don’t want to sit on his lap, by all means don’t. Five minutes into this palava, the toddler has thrown himself to the ground, bawling, and no amount of persuasion or distraction can change his mind about seeing Santa.

Then we handed little baby brother over.

Cue ear-piercing wail. From the toddler.

How DARE you give my little brother over to a complete stranger who looks funny and keeps trying to tempt me into his lap with bright toys because you think it’s “cute.”

The two month old, of course, has no clue. As long as he’s fed, dry, and comfortable, he doesn’t really care who’s holding him. We’re all pretty much fuzzy blobs anyway. Watching mom and dad willing hand over the baby to this madman in a red suit was the last straw for older brother, who expressed his abhorrence to the situation through a death-grip on dad’s side and a shriek at every step closer to Jolly Kris Kringle.

As I left, they were still trying to coax the toddler close enough to take pictures near Santa, creating buffers with the bodies of the parents, grandparents, and any willing staff. Pretty sure several of those pictures will be filled with complete strangers (excepting the aforementioned Mr. Claus, of course, who was handling all this with the grace of a saint).

It wasn’t until I was driving home that it dawned on me how much I feel like my nephew (point of clarity: the toddler, not the baby) right now. Delving into this new venture, deciding to put myself in its lap and tell it what I want from life. It’s terrifying. Balls to the wall scary. Why on earth should I trust the unknown to bring, share, or do ANYTHING that will be of benefit to me? How (and when) does this experience shift from the horrifying throw-myself-to-the-floor-screaming ordeal, to a magical, merry, manifestation of mirth?

Wait, are we talking about visiting Santa or starting a business?

Either way, the magic happens outside our comfort zone.

The magic starts when we begin to trust others, particularly others who have been there before us (wherever “there” is). The magic starts when we let go of the expectations, let go of the security, and let go of the known. The magic starts when we pause and listen to our own needs and honor our experiences, interests, and curiosities. The magic starts when we start to ask questions, the simple ones we’re too embarrassed to share except with those nearest our heart, and the profound ones that change the way we view the world. The magic starts when we become willing to explore the big, uncomfortable, situations in search of our own growth.

What will you share with Santa this year?