Oh, sure. I groan as much as the next person when I first hear holiday muzak in the stores. Maybe more so, having worked in the restaurant business for some years where Christmas muzak -- day in and day out and, Oh!, Even extra hours of it! -- turns once-beloved melodies into an endurance test.

And I grouse about the endless chores: The shopping and wrapping and decorating and card sending. But whenever my intellect begins to question the validity of all these efforts, one stark memory stops it cold.

It was the first time I caught a glimpse of Santa Claus. I was 10 years old at the time.

The first Christmas after my parents separated was a bleak time, to be sure. My mother had cautioned me repeatedly not to expect much for Christmas, that it was all she could do to keep us fed, clothed and sheltered (this was before the improved alimony and child-support laws).

Perhaps it was my lowered expectations. But I was surprised as I found a new kind of joy in our meager decorations (less of them made each one all the more precious); anticipation in the buying, making and wrapping of the gifts my combined birthday and allowance money afforded (probably all of $10-15 at the time); and the fun of helping with baking cookies and other holiday treats.

But most of all, I was shocked when I felt the peace and love of the season overwhelm me as, one evening, I watched my mother quietly writing Christmas cards by candle light. What it was about that moment, I don't know. Except that it was the first time I saw Santa Claus.

I saw him in my mother's quiet determination, despite all, to look past her own troubles and celebrate the season. That moment will be forever etched in my memory as one of the most beautiful moments I've ever experienced. It was Santa, as close to being in the flesh, as possible.

I now realize that, over the years, I've seen him during almost every Christmas season. I see Him in every mom & dad who stays up on Christmas eve, struggling with last-minute gift assembly; I see Him in toy donation bins filled to overflowing; I see Him in the coins tossed to Salvation Army Volunteers and, indeed, in the Volunteers themselves.

When I worked in restaurants, it was part of my job to sell the gift certificates. At first I moaned for the added responsibility, especially at such a generally busy time of the year-- until I was surprised at how often I saw Santa in the faces of the people buying those gift certificates. People who had gone out of their way, who spent just a moment to think of Uncle Henry or Mom & Dad. Whatever their motives or reasons, the important thing is, they took the time to think of others, to do for others, to climb out of the quagmire of their lives long enough to see others and reach out to them.

Like many parents, I used to take my kids to the mall to see Santa. Imagine my surprise when I realized Santa is everywhere: In every harried shopper, every over-worked store clerk, as well as every pouty child, struggling to be good. Some people avoid the mall during the Christmas season. I think that's a tragic missed chance to see Santa at work and now I make sure to go there as often as possible. Think of it: just about every single person there is buying for or thinking of someone else. Isn't that a miracle?

It's taken me a long time to see Santa. Just as it's taken me a while to understand that it really is better to give than receive. Because, in giving, we think of others and forget our own troubles for a little while. Plus, giving is the best way to appreciate how lucky we are; to affirm, in positive action, what we really can do, when we decide to do it.

Santa is also in every parent who scrapes together enough money or pulls a rabbit out of their hat to make their children's dreams come true... but it's Santa that does it. This year, I found Him at Wal-mart.

Go ahead and laugh. But, my son wanted a weight bench (used for weight-lifting) for Christmas. That's all he wanted, because he knew it was expensive. I went to Wal-mart to see just HOW expensive. Yep. $200 for a weight bench. (Gulp). I couldn't afford it, but I kept going through the Sporting Goods department every time I went to Wal-mart... then, one day, I walked in and, there on the display was a tag that said, "Special Discount: $45.00" I couldn't believe it! It had been returned and the box was slightly damaged... (sniff!)

Oh, yeah, I believe in Santa. And that Santa can and DOES perform miracles.

Remember that Christmas when I first saw Santa? That Christmas morning I was overwhelmed by the gifts I received.

Sure, some people (humbugs, mostly) would quickly point out that it was only psychological; I simply expected less -- and my parents probably felt guilty and had over-compensated. To that, I can only say, dissecting a miracle brings one no closer to understanding or experiencing it first-hand.

But, mostly, I think it only shows how much people can do when they decide to make an effort. Because that morning WAS a miracle-- and the first time I believed in the magic of Santa.

Merry Christmas--mo

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