MAA, IS THERE REALLY A SANTA CLAUS?(a story by Kamala)

[Guest guest]

MAA, IS THERE REALLY A SANTA CLAUS?

 

Like most young children growing up in a western culture, I was

whole-heartedly captured by the belief in a mysterious, jolly man

named Santa Claus. I was told that he lived at the North Pole, and

he magically travelled in one night all over the world, giving gifts

to every child. Of course, he had Mrs. Santa Claus and the elves to

help him.

But, that childhood fantasy, at the tender age of six or

seven, met its' demise in an experience that remains, even now, one

of the highest teachings of my life.

It was a cold, hard winter that year just before Thanksgiving,

and our parents were struggling hand-to-mouth to care for us, the

first seven children of our growing family. I overheard my parents

whispering and worrying quietly about the bills, and my mother's

usual reasurring words, "somehow we'll make do!" And

then one day following the Thanksgiving gathering at my maternal

Grandma's house, my mom pulled me aside, and asked me to quietly

collect one old doll belonging to each of the three girls, and give

them to her.

I felt honored that she trusted me to keep some kind of secret here,

although I, too, was still in the dark.

On the eve of Christmas, our family traditions were going on

as usual. I helped to set up the Christmas crib of the Nativity

scene with a small black barn that my dad had made when he was

fifteen, covering the rooftop with a thin layer of cotton-snow and a

small light for the star, like the one that shown above the stable

in Bethlehem. Then we older children re-told the story of the Baby

Jesus's birth to the younger ones. After dinner that night, our dad

came through the door from his second job selling christmas trees,

pulling our own tree behind him. With our mom's guidance, we older

children strung the lights and helped our younger siblings to hang

the remaining, unbroken glass ornaments of Christmases-past, along

with the recycled tinsel.

And then, huddled around the glowing lights of our tree in the

darkened room, we children and parents sang "Silent Night", "Away in

the Manger", and our other family favorites. I remember my mom

reminding me, within earshot of the others, to leave two of the best-

decorated christmas cookies and a glass of milk on a plate for Santa

Claus, near the tree. Surprisingly, she then whispered quietly to me

that she could use my help with something, after the younger ones had

fallen asleep.

So, with bewildered anticipation, I finally crept back down the

bedroom hallway, through the kitchen,

to the door of the utility room where I heard hushed voices. It was

there that my mom asked me if I had ever heard from any of the kids

at school, or in our neighborhood, "that they didn't believe in Santa

Claus"? I answered, "Of course, I heard some of the kids say that

they don't `believe'. "but I do!"

Somehow my mom found the words, and led me by the hand into the

utility room, showing me that this year our grandma and grandpa, and

great-grandma Lutz were together our Santa Claus. That small room

was filled with their personally, hand-crafted gifts: torquoise-

painted wooden doll cradles that converted to beds when turned over

on their legs; a grey-painted table with four matching chairs; a

children's play cupboard with real doors on freshly-hung hinges and a

red marble-colored counter top; all of the old dolls were surrounded

with sets of newly-stitched dresses, and wrapped in small, hand-

knitted woolen shawls and old-fashioned quilted blankets on their

beds. There must have been gifts for the boys too, representing many

quiet hours and weeks of our grandparents creativity and labor to

support their family (even with their retirement incomes of the late

1950's).

As I reverently dressed each of the dolls in their new clothes,

and set these gifts from "Santa" around the tree with my mom, I was

suddenly flooded by and filled with a new realization: that my

stern, maternal grandmother, my wrinkled, denture-clicking grandpa,

and my old, sweet great-grandmother were full of love for us! And out

of this deep love and generousity, came their giving. I could hardly

wait for Christmas Day to come, to give my grandmas their

first "real " Santa hug from me, and my whispered "Thank You Santa"

in their ears. My stern Grandma simply smiled, and winked her eye,

as she hugged me back.

Along with the Saints and true, wise teachers of all ages and

all nations, Shree Maa and Swami Satyananda teach that

real "Spirituality is giving more than you take in every circumstance

of your life".

So we are all shown by example, and "called" to be Santa Claus in the

world everyday, according to our means and circumstances. May the

Spirit and Love of Santa Claus be with you all, always! May the

Spirit of our Lord, Jesus Christ, shine brightly in your hearts

today, and bless you abundantly in this coming new year! Merry

Christmas to all my brothers and sisters on our Devi Mandir Chat

Group, from Kamala Ma, in India.

[Guest guest]

Beloved Kamalajji,

i am so moved by your heart warming story! It brims over with Love,

Love, Love and the Spirit of Christmas. Thank-you so much for sharing

it! You artistically painted this sweet childhood story so vividly,

that i could sense what you were feeling.

May you receive every good thing your heart desires and may Maa

always light your way as you travel the golden path back to Her

crystal palace of Light. :<)

Happiest of Holy Days to you, dear sister!

Jai Maa! Jai Swamiji! Jai Thakur Ramakrishna Deva!

muktimaa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

, "kamalaji_india"

<kamalaji_india> wrote:

>

> MAA, IS THERE REALLY A SANTA CLAUS?

>

> Like most young children growing up in a western culture, I

was

> whole-heartedly captured by the belief in a mysterious, jolly man

> named Santa Claus. I was told that he lived at the North Pole, and

> he magically travelled in one night all over the world, giving

gifts

> to every child. Of course, he had Mrs. Santa Claus and the elves

to

> help him.

> But, that childhood fantasy, at the tender age of six or

> seven, met its' demise in an experience that remains, even now, one

> of the highest teachings of my life.

> It was a cold, hard winter that year just before

Thanksgiving,

> and our parents were struggling hand-to-mouth to care for us, the

> first seven children of our growing family. I overheard my parents

> whispering and worrying quietly about the bills, and my mother's

> usual reasurring words, "somehow we'll make do!" And

> then one day following the Thanksgiving gathering at my maternal

> Grandma's house, my mom pulled me aside, and asked me to quietly

> collect one old doll belonging to each of the three girls, and give

> them to her.

> I felt honored that she trusted me to keep some kind of secret

here,

> although I, too, was still in the dark.

> On the eve of Christmas, our family traditions were going on

> as usual. I helped to set up the Christmas crib of the Nativity

> scene with a small black barn that my dad had made when he was

> fifteen, covering the rooftop with a thin layer of cotton-snow and

a

> small light for the star, like the one that shown above the stable

> in Bethlehem. Then we older children re-told the story of the Baby

> Jesus's birth to the younger ones. After dinner that night, our

dad

> came through the door from his second job selling christmas trees,

> pulling our own tree behind him. With our mom's guidance, we older

> children strung the lights and helped our younger siblings to hang

> the remaining, unbroken glass ornaments of Christmases-past, along

> with the recycled tinsel.

> And then, huddled around the glowing lights of our tree in the

> darkened room, we children and parents sang "Silent Night", "Away

in

> the Manger", and our other family favorites. I remember my mom

> reminding me, within earshot of the others, to leave two of the

best-

> decorated christmas cookies and a glass of milk on a plate for

Santa

> Claus, near the tree. Surprisingly, she then whispered quietly to

me

> that she could use my help with something, after the younger ones

had

> fallen asleep.

> So, with bewildered anticipation, I finally crept back down

the

> bedroom hallway, through the kitchen,

> to the door of the utility room where I heard hushed voices. It

was

> there that my mom asked me if I had ever heard from any of the kids

> at school, or in our neighborhood, "that they didn't believe in

Santa

> Claus"? I answered, "Of course, I heard some of the kids say that

> they don't `believe'. "but I do!"

> Somehow my mom found the words, and led me by the hand into

the

> utility room, showing me that this year our grandma and grandpa,

and

> great-grandma Lutz were together our Santa Claus. That small room

> was filled with their personally, hand-crafted gifts: torquoise-

> painted wooden doll cradles that converted to beds when turned over

> on their legs; a grey-painted table with four matching chairs; a

> children's play cupboard with real doors on freshly-hung hinges and

a

> red marble-colored counter top; all of the old dolls were

surrounded

> with sets of newly-stitched dresses, and wrapped in small, hand-

> knitted woolen shawls and old-fashioned quilted blankets on their

> beds. There must have been gifts for the boys too, representing

many

> quiet hours and weeks of our grandparents creativity and labor to

> support their family (even with their retirement incomes of the

late

> 1950's).

> As I reverently dressed each of the dolls in their new

clothes,

> and set these gifts from "Santa" around the tree with my mom, I was

> suddenly flooded by and filled with a new realization: that my

> stern, maternal grandmother, my wrinkled, denture-clicking grandpa,

> and my old, sweet great-grandmother were full of love for us! And

out

> of this deep love and generousity, came their giving. I could

hardly

> wait for Christmas Day to come, to give my grandmas their

> first "real " Santa hug from me, and my whispered "Thank You Santa"

> in their ears. My stern Grandma simply smiled, and winked her eye,

> as she hugged me back.

> Along with the Saints and true, wise teachers of all ages and

> all nations, Shree Maa and Swami Satyananda teach that

> real "Spirituality is giving more than you take in every

circumstance

> of your life".

> So we are all shown by example, and "called" to be Santa Claus in

the

> world everyday, according to our means and circumstances. May the

> Spirit and Love of Santa Claus be with you all, always! May the

> Spirit of our Lord, Jesus Christ, shine brightly in your hearts

> today, and bless you abundantly in this coming new year! Merry

> Christmas to all my brothers and sisters on our Devi Mandir Chat

> Group, from Kamala Ma, in India.

>

[Guest guest]

Dear Kamala Ma,

 

now this is what I call a Christmas story! You've painted such a vivid

picture of your loving family that I could really see your Dad coming

in with the tree and your stern Grandma and denture-clicking Grandpa:)

The story contains a great lesson for all of us, and it also shows

that the true Santa Claus doesn't advertise, but works quietly through

many giving hands and loving hearts. Thank you for this lovely gift on

Christmas eve,

 

wishing you a very merry Christmas in India,

 

Henny

 

, "kamalaji_india"

<kamalaji_india> wrote:

>

> MAA, IS THERE REALLY A SANTA CLAUS?

>

> Like most young children growing up in a western culture, I was

> whole-heartedly captured by the belief in a mysterious, jolly man

> named Santa Claus. I was told that he lived at the North Pole, and

> he magically travelled in one night all over the world, giving gifts

> to every child. Of course, he had Mrs. Santa Claus and the elves to

> help him.

> But, that childhood fantasy, at the tender age of six or

> seven, met its' demise in an experience that remains, even now, one

> of the highest teachings of my life.

> It was a cold, hard winter that year just before

Thanksgiving,

> and our parents were struggling hand-to-mouth to care for us, the

> first seven children of our growing family. I overheard my parents

> whispering and worrying quietly about the bills, and my mother's

> usual reasurring words, "somehow we'll make do!" And

> then one day following the Thanksgiving gathering at my maternal

> Grandma's house, my mom pulled me aside, and asked me to quietly

> collect one old doll belonging to each of the three girls, and give

> them to her.

> I felt honored that she trusted me to keep some kind of secret here,

> although I, too, was still in the dark.

> On the eve of Christmas, our family traditions were going on

> as usual. I helped to set up the Christmas crib of the Nativity

> scene with a small black barn that my dad had made when he was

> fifteen, covering the rooftop with a thin layer of cotton-snow and a

> small light for the star, like the one that shown above the stable

> in Bethlehem. Then we older children re-told the story of the Baby

> Jesus's birth to the younger ones. After dinner that night, our dad

> came through the door from his second job selling christmas trees,

> pulling our own tree behind him. With our mom's guidance, we older

> children strung the lights and helped our younger siblings to hang

> the remaining, unbroken glass ornaments of Christmases-past, along

> with the recycled tinsel.

> And then, huddled around the glowing lights of our tree in the

> darkened room, we children and parents sang "Silent Night", "Away in

> the Manger", and our other family favorites. I remember my mom

> reminding me, within earshot of the others, to leave two of the

best-

> decorated christmas cookies and a glass of milk on a plate for Santa

> Claus, near the tree. Surprisingly, she then whispered quietly to

me

> that she could use my help with something, after the younger ones

had

> fallen asleep.

> So, with bewildered anticipation, I finally crept back down the

> bedroom hallway, through the kitchen,

> to the door of the utility room where I heard hushed voices. It was

> there that my mom asked me if I had ever heard from any of the kids

> at school, or in our neighborhood, "that they didn't believe in

Santa

> Claus"? I answered, "Of course, I heard some of the kids say that

> they don't `believe'. "but I do!"

> Somehow my mom found the words, and led me by the hand into the

> utility room, showing me that this year our grandma and grandpa, and

> great-grandma Lutz were together our Santa Claus. That small room

> was filled with their personally, hand-crafted gifts: torquoise-

> painted wooden doll cradles that converted to beds when turned over

> on their legs; a grey-painted table with four matching chairs; a

> children's play cupboard with real doors on freshly-hung hinges and

a

> red marble-colored counter top; all of the old dolls were surrounded

> with sets of newly-stitched dresses, and wrapped in small, hand-

> knitted woolen shawls and old-fashioned quilted blankets on their

> beds. There must have been gifts for the boys too, representing

many

> quiet hours and weeks of our grandparents creativity and labor to

> support their family (even with their retirement incomes of the late

> 1950's).

> As I reverently dressed each of the dolls in their new clothes,

> and set these gifts from "Santa" around the tree with my mom, I was

> suddenly flooded by and filled with a new realization: that my

> stern, maternal grandmother, my wrinkled, denture-clicking grandpa,

> and my old, sweet great-grandmother were full of love for us! And

out

> of this deep love and generousity, came their giving. I could

hardly

> wait for Christmas Day to come, to give my grandmas their

> first "real " Santa hug from me, and my whispered "Thank You Santa"

> in their ears. My stern Grandma simply smiled, and winked her eye,

> as she hugged me back.

> Along with the Saints and true, wise teachers of all ages and

> all nations, Shree Maa and Swami Satyananda teach that

> real "Spirituality is giving more than you take in every

circumstance

> of your life".

> So we are all shown by example, and "called" to be Santa Claus in

the

> world everyday, according to our means and circumstances. May the

> Spirit and Love of Santa Claus be with you all, always! May the

> Spirit of our Lord, Jesus Christ, shine brightly in your hearts

> today, and bless you abundantly in this coming new year! Merry

> Christmas to all my brothers and sisters on our Devi Mandir Chat

> Group, from Kamala Ma, in India.

>