Santa…What do you want for Christmas?
By Emily Layton
Nick pulled his covers up around his chin and snuggled beneath the warm blankets. Memories of his day danced through his mind. It had snowed last night and Nick had spent the day sledding with his sister, building a snowman with his new friend Max, and having a snowball fight with his dad. Later, as his family gathered around the Christmas tree drinking hot chocolate, Nick had asked a question that had been bothering him for a long time.
“What does Santa get for Christmas?”
No one had answered at first. Nick was used to that. Grandma had told Nick many times that he was born with a question on his lips. He always had questions about where things came from, why things were, and how things worked. When he was in the car, on the school bus, waiting in line at the grocery store, or sitting (sort of) quietly in church questions would just pop into his mind and beg to be answered right away. Sometimes the grownups had an answer, but other times they didn’t.
Nick could tell that this was one of those other times.
Mom had responded with the answer she’d given Nick a hundred times, “That’s an interesting question Nicholas. What do you think?”
Nick’s mom insisted on calling him Nicholas, though he’d asked her more times than he could count why she didn’t just call him Nick like everyone else.
“I just don’t know.” Nick had replied to his mom. “It seems like Christmas is all about Santa and what people want from him. I’m not complaining or anything. It’s fun to get presents, but I wonder what Santa thinks about it. Does anyone ever get him anything for Christmas?”
“We left him cookies last year!” Nick’s little sister Lisa had chimed in.
Nick looked to his dad for an answer. “I don’t know either, son.” Nick’s dad had answered. “Next time we see him we should ask him your question.”
Now, as he lay in bed he thought again about his question. He had asked Mrs. Haymore, his second grade teacher, and Mr. Colby, the bus driver, the question about Santa too. Mrs. Haymore had patted him on the head and told him he was cute, and Mr. Colby had just shrugged and told him he was clever. Nick didn’t want to be cute or clever. He just wanted an answer. He promised himself he would find a way to do just what dad had said—he didn’t know when or how, but he had to ask Santa his question.
Just as he was drifting off to sleep, Nick heard a quiet jingling sound coming from the hall. Everyone had already gone to bed, and Nick was curious. “What could be making that sound?” he asked himself.
Intent on finding the answer, he crawled out from his covers, put on his slippers and slowly opened the door. The hall was dark, but the lights from the Christmas tree glowed in the front room. Nick tip-toed down the hall and peeked around the corner. Standing by the tree was the answer to his question and the beginning of a dozen more.
“Santa? Where did you come from? Did you bring your reindeer? How did you get into our house? Why are you here? Didn’t you know it’s not Christmas Eve for a few more weeks?” Nick clasped his hand over his mouth to stop the questions from pouring out.
“You are a boy of many questions, aren’t you Nicholas?”
Nick just stared at Santa and nodded, his hand still over his mouth.
“And that, my boy, is why I am here. You and I are more alike than you know. I heard that you had a question for me, and there’s nothing I like more than a good question. I get so many letters—more than you could ever imagine. But, mostly they just ask ‘Santa, will you get me this or that.’ That’s not a good question, now is it?”
Nick silently shook his head back and forth.
Santa laughed, smiling deeply at Nick. “Since when are you a boy of few words? Come, sit with me. Ask me your question.” Santa sat on the couch, right where Nick had been sitting earlier that night, and patted his lap.
Nick had heard of sitting on Santa’s lap—he even had a picture of himself sitting on Santa’s lap at the shopping mall when he was younger—but this was amazing. Santa was here and wanted to answer his question. This was better than Christmas! Nick scrambled across the room and up onto Santa’s lap.
“Oh man Santa, I have so many questions for you. I want to know about where you live and how you teach the reindeer to fly and what you eat for breakfast…but most of all I want to know what you get for Christmas. No one I asked can tell me.”
“Well, first let me ask you a question. What is your name?”
“Nick…well, really it’s Nicholas, but only my mom calls me that.”
“And Nicholas, what is my name?”
“It’s Santa, isn’t it?” Nick asked, confused. Nick was a pro at asking questions, and he knew there must be something he was missing here.
“Santa is what people call me, just like they call you Nick, but my real name is Nicholas too.”
With that, Nick’s eyes grew big and his mouth dropped open in wonder.
“I am known by many names around the world, but I began as St. Nicholas long ago. I was known for my kindness and thoughtful acts. I love to serve people in need and be a friend to the lonely. People remember that and celebrate me, but so often they forget or don’t want to know why I did what I did.”
“Why Santa? I want to know! Tell me why do you do those kind things for everyone?”
Santa pointed to a small table by the Christmas tree. It was filled with wooden figures. Nick had helped his family decorate for Christmas. This year he had been the one to take the Nativity characters out of the box and place them on the table, each figure surrounding the wooden manger that held the Baby Jesus.
“That is why Nicholas. What do you know about that Baby in the manger?”
“It’s Jesus. Mom says He’s the real reason we celebrate Christmas—no offense Santa.”
Santa chuckled. “No offense taken, my boy.”
Nick continued, “Christmas is when we remember about Jesus Christ being born. I asked my dad last year why we call it Christmas and he told me that the answer is in the word. CHRISTmas. It’s about Christ. I liked that answer.”
“I like that answer too Nicholas. That is why I celebrate Christmas. That tiny Baby born to earth was the first and best Christmas gift ever. He is the gift to all of us from a loving Father in Heaven. His birth, His life, His example, His sacrifice, His grace—all of these things are part of that great gift that keeps on giving every day of the year. We didn’t do anything to earn the gift—we don’t deserve it at all. And yet, this time of year we celebrate that God gave the gift anyway.”
“So what does that have to do with my question and your name?”
“Another good question. I am just a man, my boy. I am celebrated because I am kind, generous, and thoughtful. I began giving gifts to remind people of the Greatest Gift of all. People have forgotten that. They just want the presents. Every year the lists get longer and longer and the people get farther and farther from the real reason we celebrate Christmas. Today I am called Santa and not St. Nicholas. I changed my name long ago as a way to remind people what Christmas is really about. Each letter of my name is part of the message. SANTA is the reminder of Service And Nice Thoughtful Acts. It worked for awhile, but now Santa is celebrated as the gift giver instead of celebrating Him who is the Giver of All Good Gifts.”
“Your name is a way to remind me of the real meaning of Christmas?
“Yes Nicholas. S-A-N-T-A. Service And Nice Thoughtful Acts.”
“And Santa…what do you want for Christmas?’
“Nicholas, I want people to learn what you learned tonight. I want people to remember me and give gifts of service and kindness to others as I have done in my life. I want you to be SANTA to someone else who needs help or needs a friend. I want people to remember that all the good we ever do is done in the name of Jesus Christ. This season is meant to celebrate Him and His gift—not me and mine.”
“That’s true. We don’t call it Santa-mas. We call it Christ-mas.” Nick said.
“Well said. And now I have a question for you Nicholas. What do you think Jesus Christ wants you to give Him for Christmas this year?”
Nick sat silently for a moment, suddenly appreciating why grownups didn’t always answer his questions right away. After a moment he responded, “I can give service and love to other people I guess. But how?”
“Yes Nicholas, you can. I think you have already started. Today you shoveled the snow off Mrs. Kendrick’s sidewalks. You ran to your sister and helped her when she fell off the sled. You invited your new neighbor to help you make a snowman. And, you helped your dad clean up dinner without being asked. All of those things are thoughtful acts of service that I think Jesus would have done if he was here today. How did doing those things make you feel Nicholas?”
Nick thought back through his day. “I felt so happy I could help Mrs. Kendrick. She likes to make me and Lisa cookies, but she seems so sad since Mr. Kendrick died. It felt good to help her. It also felt good to help Lisa when she was hurt. I don’t like to see her cry and I know that my hug helped her feel better. It felt good to build the snowman with Max. I can tell we are going to be good friends. He asked lots of questions about building a snowman because they didn’t have snow where he moved from. It also felt good to help with the dishes. I liked joking with my dad as we worked together and let mom read a book with Lisa.”
Santa smiled a knowing smile at Nick, “You felt joy today in serving others and doing nice, thoughtful acts.”
“What is joy Santa?” Nick asked.
“The answer is in the word Nicholas. JOY is that feeling that comes from God when we choose to be a SANTA and do nice, thoughtful acts for someone else. It comes when you think first of Jesus, then Others, then Yourself. If you think of yourself first it just can’t spell JOY, can it?”
“Jesus, Others, Yourself. J-O-Y. I like that answer”
“I like that answer too. That feeling of JOY is what I get every year for Christmas. While it is fun to unwrap gifts, the best gift of all comes from God as we remember Jesus Christ and try to serve and love as He would do.”
“I want to feel that way every day! But I am just a boy—I don’t have lots of money and people don’t write me letters and tell me what they need. How can I know what to do?” Nick asked.
“That is a question I can’t answer for you Nicholas. But, I know if you ask God and really think about it and look for your answer you will find opportunities for Service And Nice Thoughful Acts every day, all year long.”
Nick nodded. He that answer. Santa walked him back to bed and tucked the covers in around Nick’s chin, just like he liked it. He smiled at Nick as he left the room and said, “May this and every Christmas season be filled with JOY and the true spirit of SANTA.”
Nick closed his eyes and for a long time he drank in that happy feeling of having his questions answered. He liked Santa’s answers. He wanted to be a SANTA and feel that JOY every day.
“Nicholas, time to get up!” Mom said, knocking on his door.
“Get up? I’m just going to bed. How could it be morning?” He wondered to himself. “Was I just dreaming?”
Nick crawled out from under his covers again, put on his slippers, and walked down the hall to the kitchen.
“Nicholas, do you know what this is? It was on the table.” Nick’s mom asked as she handed him a piece of paper.
Nick smiled as he read the note, “Sorry I forgot. The North Pole. Magic. Oatmeal. Love, SANTA.”
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