As you can imagine, in our house where there is a 7-year-old and a 4-year-old, Christmas is a pretty magical time. The movie The Polar Express is already on a constant loop, the Elf on the Shelf has made his appearance and “naughty or nice” is the number one topic of discussion.
My son, who is two weeks from being 7, is starting to get a tiny dose of cynicism where Santa Claus is concerned. He’s asking a whole lot of in-depth questions about the practicality of Santa fitting down our chimney and he wants to really understand how given one night, ol’ St. Nick manages to make it to EVERY house in the world. I’m running out of answers so I always end up with my basic go-to, “It’s magic.”
Surprisingly, that totally and completely satisfies him. Magic.
I am so struck by his willingness to embrace and believe. Even though his little brain seems to be computing the impossibility of a jolly fat man and flying reindeer making it around the world with a toy-filled sack in one night, his little golden soul just naturally accepts it. It’s magic.
And every morning when both my kids wake up and look for Ralphie our Elf, they are completely overwhelmed with joy and wonder when they find him.
That sweet, innocent belief in the magic of Christmas is so overwhelmingly amazing to me. It chokes me up every time. For many reasons. It makes me nostalgic for my childhood, it makes me count the blessings of having this time with my children, it makes me feel the passage of time, and it makes me want to remember and hold on to these beautiful moments because I know how swiftly it all flies by.
It also reminds me to appreciate the magic of life. I think as we get older and get into the grind of the day-to-day, we forget how to see and appreciate magic. But magic is still all around us.
That symbiosis you feel with a true heart friend. When someone unexpectedly calls you and you were just thinking about them. When you feel an instant connection with someone you just met. When you get butterflies about a new love. When you create something and you’re not even exactly sure where it came from.
Call it coincidence. Call it serendipity. Call it kizmet. I call it magic.
And I believe in it. Do you?