THAZ YOU SANTA CLAUS?

 

I found out at an early age that Santa Claus was a mythical person based on a real person and that Jesus Christ was the root of Christmas.  Santa Claus was and remains prominent during the Christmas season.  He is real to many boys and girls around the world.  I saw a Hispanic family in Montevallo on Wednesday.  A little boy scrambled from a SUV.  Dressed in Santa Claus pajamas, I said, “Someone is excited about Santa Claus.”  His mom and dad had smiles as wide as Texas.  I said, “Merry Christmas,” They did not speak English and I should have said, Felez Navidad.”

 

My first year out of high school I worked at a metal molding plant.  I was a big for an eighteen-year-old and they convinced me to play Santa Claus.  As another famous Alabamian, Forrest Gump, would say, “All I got to say about that it was frightening.  The workforce was predominantly female.  While they sat on Santa’s knee, this young Christian boy heard things that would make a Corinthian Sailor blush.  And “that is all I got to say about that.

 

Every year for Christmas Local 50537 and management for the cement plant gave away 300 bicycles to needy families in central Alabama.  I was Santa Claus.  I met with children in a small program, and they would tell what they wanted.  At the end we presented the bicycles to them.  It was all I could do to hold back tears as these children hugged my neck and thanked me for the bicycles.

 

I played Santa Claus for my extended family.  One Christmas when my youngest son was about five or six, he sat in my lap and rubbed my arm.  I wore white gloves, but I think he recognized my arm.  It was fun as my son, nieces, and nephews talked with Santa and quizzed where was dad and uncle Bobby.  Oh, the tales told at Christmas.

 

I was Santa longer when I served as Director of Missions in Linden, Alabama.  At the request of the mayor and Chief of police, they asked if I would be the town, Santa.  It was fun especially riding the Fire Department Engine and waving at the crowds of people during “Chilly Fest” and the Christmas parade.  I would sit in the town Gazebo and the children would take pictures with Santa.

 

One parade, a woman running for a Congressional seat sat on my lap.  I asked her what she wanted for Christmas, and she said to win Congressional Seat.  She is now the Honorable Terri Sewell in Washington.  Hundreds of babies sat on my lap as cameras took photographs.

 

I usually wore a beard and mustache that I purchased.  I distained the fake stuff that came with cheap Santa outfits.  I glued the mustache and beard to my face so when mischievous kids would pull Santa’s beard it appeared real.  One year I grew a beard and mustache along growing longer hair.  I was not snowy white so at the advice of the lady that cut my hair I went to Tuscaloosa to procure some dye.  Dressed in red and waiting to checkout, an attractive lady put her arm around me and said, “Santa, I want a keyless entry Lexus for Christmas.

 

Chilly Fest was a huge event with a chili cookoff, parade, fireworks, and such.  On the morning of the event my son Aaron and I were replacing a radiator in his Jeep Wrangler when my cell phone rang.  It was the Chief of police wanting to know if I had seen Santa.  The park for Chilly Fest was a block away.  Santa usually appeared the night of the parade, but folks were wondering where he was for the all-day event.

 

Quickly with the speed of Superman in a telephone booth, Santa appeared.  It was a cool overcast morning that suddenly dissipated, and a bright sun drove the clouds away.  Everyone wanted to see Santa.  I took time with everyone that wanted to talk with me.  It was fun.

Then it happened.  A little back boy sat with me and was convinced I was not the real Santa Claus.  He said I did not look like the real one.  I told him that I was the local Santa and that the “Big Man” could only be everywhere around the world on Christmas Eve.  He used local Santas to help.

 

Not to be undone, he asked me where my reindeer were.  I asked him did he see any snow.  Snow is rare in Alabama.  He said, “No.”  I reminded him that I had reindeer, not rain deer.  Then he was to know where my elves.  I told him they were incognito, which I said they were disguised as children with their Christmas caps pulled down over their pointed ears. 

 

“How did you get here and where is your sleigh?”  He did not let up.  I told him that since there was no snow, I had to use the elf mobile which I had hid.  Then I thought he had me.  He asked, “If you are the real Santa, what did you get me for Christmas last year?  I pondered the question for a moment and said, “toys.”

 

With a beautiful smile from a little boy, he yelled out loud, “YOU ARE THE REAL SANTA.”  He rounded up all his friends, and their friends.  For a few precious moments in time, I was experienced the miracle of Christmas, love, and wonderment. The children asked me some of the amazing questions.  On of my neighbors, a Hispanic girl, when I asked her what she wanted for Christmas said, “A bell from your sleigh.”  One again I had tears in my eyes.  She, her three sisters, and brother were rescued from under a bridge.  They were caught stealing food to eat.  My neighbor was their foster parent.

Merry Christmas everyone and remember Jesus.  But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.”

 

 

 

 

 

A Family Tradition

Family traditions are important reminders of who we are and where we have been in the journey we call life.  Thanksgiving and Christmas for the Hopper family while I was growing up were original.  My dad’s family did not have “get-togethers” and mom’s family did “get-together” but there was some inequity.  Some family members were not welcome.

Mama had four sisters and a brother, which with the exception of one sister, “married up.”  The Hoppers and the “I will not mention their name” were larger families and much lower on the totem pole.  We were lucky if we got Christmas presents so that meant none under the tree when others opened theirs.  Since we were not welcome, our cousins would not open their presents until we went home, we stayed home and started our own traditions.

I remember mamma standing in the kitchen cooking her world family chicken and dressing.  I see the steam rising from the pots of boiling chicken and broth, backbone and turnip greens, bacon and purple hull peas, potatoes, bacon and butter beans, creamed corn, and brown sugar and yams.  In the oven would be a pork roast donated from one of our hogs.  She did it for both Thanksgiving and Christmas.  We did not need presents, but when momma would sacrifice and order us clothes from Spiegel catalog, we had a wonderful surprise on usually a frosty morning.

Momma would remind us how poor baby Jesus was and the joy that Joseph and Mary had when the Magi brought gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  Daddy was not as optimistic as momma.  He was so bad we named him Scrooge.  He was really not a Scrooge, but he did not decorate the tree or do any of the other things associated with the Thanksgiving and Christmas season.  He was usually on layoff, which was a depressing time.  The thing that upset him the most was Christmas.  He would tell momma that Christmas was about the birth of Jesus and not Christmas presents.  The amazing thing about that was dad was not a Christian until my brothers, sister, and I were grownup with children of our own.  He had a fine Christian mother, Granny Hopper, which taught him Christian principles.

And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh (Matthew 2:11 KJV).

Momma and daddy are with the Lord now, but the Hopper brothers and sisters do meet every year for Christmas.  Yes, the menu is pretty much the same.  I started my own Thanksgiving.  I miss momma’s world-famous chicken and dressing, but that Angus ribeye with grilled vegetables, baked potato, and my famous cherry pie ain’t bad.

I hope y’all have a great Thanksgiving and y’all have a great Christmas.

"Like Watching Anna and Baby Jesus"

One night at prayer meeting I watched as an elderly church member reached for a newborn baby.  The baby’s mother slowly and tenderly handed the newborn to the woman.  In that single moment I thought, God what are you teaching me? The oldest member of church was holding the newest addition to the church family and the profundity of it has intrigued me since that moment. 

An elderly woman holding a baby boy does not sound profound, but the significance of the moment is.  Ninety plus years of wisdom was holding innocence.  The experience of that woman who witnessed many innovations caressed an immature babe who would see advancements that the woman could never imagine.  A mind full of memories was staring at one who would not remember it.  One dear woman nearing the end of her journey was blessing a little boy just beginning his.  One with a lifetime of decisions gazed into the eyes of one who could not even focus into his beholder’s eyes.

I pondered the love that Miss Martha gave to little Mac that night.  It was a special flash to see how wonderful God is, how He speaks in simple, yet very philosophical ways.  Was Miss Martha passing the Christian baton to Mac?  Was she praying for Mac’s health, his journey in life, or his salvation?  How many newborns had she held and blessed in her lifetime?  Did she ponder the thoughts that Nicodemus mulled over when Jesus said, “Marvel not that I said unto thee, ye must be born again?” (John 3:7)  She had been born again many years before and now walked physically feeble toward the end of one journey, yet spiritually ran boldly toward the beginning of eternity.

Was Martha rejoicing over the Apostle Paul’s saying, “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new” as she held a new baby? (2 Corinthians 5:17)

I do not know Martha’s thoughts or Mac’s mother’s feelings, but I know I felt a sense of awe when God’s saint held a newborn in the House of the Lord.  I felt as though I saw Anna when she saw baby Jesus.  “And there was one Anna, a prophetess, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Aser: she was of a great age . . . And she coming in that instant gave thanks likewise unto the Lord, and spake of him to all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem.” (Luke 2:36a, 38)