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God times things as only He can.

BY ROGER REGUERA

My son is 11 and still believes in Santa and looks forward to the “Elf on the Shelf” every year. I don’t spoil things by telling him the harsh truth that Santa doesn’t exist (as far as we know) or the Elf (he named him Nick) is just his dad setting little scenes and pranks up each night leading to Christmas. I let my son be a son. I let my son enjoy his “sonship” and let him revel in the joy of everything that’s Christmas.


Today “Nick” left a note, saying goodbye till next year, that my son was a superstar, that he loved him and he’ll always be his elf. But it was time to go.


As I wrote this note before Marcus woke up, I wept.


I wept, thinking of how innocence is something so precious and delicate, how wonderful and precious my son is, and how I too, would miss “Nick”, and the time and effort I made to make my son’s Christmas special.


I also wept for something I had lost, that innocence, so long ago, and how even today, I continue to grieve it.

I’ve sworn to continue to make the effort to keep the magic alive for my son, no matter how long, until one day, he lets go of Nick, and Santa, and elves and pranks. But I pray he never lets go of Christmas- that wonderful feeling that comes from knowing you are so special, you’re worthy of all the gifts you ask for and then some. If anyone has seen me with my son, you’d know I do my best. Despite the fact he has “special needs”, I give him what he needs the most, and that’s love. In that department, he is overflowing.


So like the passage says, I asked God why I cried. I think as Nick leaves, I cry because Ill miss his presence, while I look forward to his return, like every year, reminding of a time, however brief in my childhood, when everything was perfect- that I felt worthy of all the gifts and not shame or guilt or wounds.


It’s a time I get to relive through my son each year and through the joy in his eyes on Christmas morning and each morning in December as Nick cheers him on, telling him he’s a superstar, to keep up the great work and he’s “worthy of all the gifts”.


The whole world may be upside down, but I’m reminded, that like my son, I too, am worthy of “all the gifts”.

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