Santa and Adventure With Grandma
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a
kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the
big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered.
"Even dummies know that!"
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her
day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma
always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a
whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her world-famous
cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said
so. It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I
her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus!" she snorted.
Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for
years, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second
world-famous, cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's
General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just
As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That
was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy
something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car."
Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's. I was only eight years
old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped
for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full
of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.
For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-
bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.
I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors,
the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just
thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid
with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs.
grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that
because he never went out for recess during the winter. His mother
always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but
all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough, and he
didn't have a coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing
excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!
I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked
warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for
the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars
"Yes," I replied shyly. "It's .... for Bobby." The nice lady smiled
me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and
me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and
ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in
Bible) and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it -- Grandma said
that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to
Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and
forever officially one of Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the
street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid
in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All
right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present
on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the
bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness
for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.
Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent
shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes.
That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus
were just what Grandma said they were ridiculous.
Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.
I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked
( Did you read
between the lines? )
Share this story with anyone you know who doesn't
seem to believe in Santa. Maybe they will read between the
lines, and smile and become
A Santa's Helper !