Can Santa Be Black?

Hello, Love *warm smile*

We are staying snug whilst enjoying this soul-delicious time of year. I wanted to get into the feel of the holiday here, so this is my gift to you today...

It is an excerpt from one of my favorite holiday poems, called Can Santa Be Black? I'm really excited to have found this at the perfect time of year to share it :)

Here is the link to the full poem. It starts with kids asking questions about Santa, and then this is Santa's reply back to their class:

Dear Mr. Slater, Dear Girls, Dear Boys,
Once a storywriter caught me bringing you toys.
The year he spied me opening my sack,
My skin was white, my boots were black.
You probably know how that story goes . . .
I laid a finger aside my nose?
All these years, needlessly,
That story worries children who don't have a chimney.
All year long I listen to the news,
Read people's thoughts, see people's views.
At the end of the year, when I see what's needed most,
I take that shape, like a Christmas ghost.
I can pass through keyholes, windows and locks,
Apartment buildings, hospitals, tents, and trailer lots.

 

One year I used a wheelchair in place of my sleigh,
Once I was blind and had to feel my way.
It's hard to understand when I don't leave a toy:
You can't unwrap a gift like hope or health or joy.
My skin has been black, white, yellow, red, brown;
My eyes have been slanted, crossed, and round.
Sometimes I have been a she:
All these things are a part of me.
You may not believe all this is true,
But that's okay, boys and girls, because . . .
I believe in you.

--- Copyright © B.J. Wrights

 

 

Oh, it brought tears to my eyes, again, even though I have read it a hundred times ♥

 

I think it may have extra feeling to it this year for us. We don't have the traditional home, and our holidays are lacking the twinkle of decorations that put us in the holiday spirit.

 

Also, we don't have room for toys. This year, I can't play Santa. I don't have the money or the space.

 

Last year, we were more down-and-out about all of this. Last year, the kids got toys from an incredible woman in the area who gifts homeless folks, and she went all out for my kids. My kids got presents from Kaelani, and they got presents from Brother Benos, and they got a present from our dear friends we were staying with, and they got a filled stocking from me, but where were their presents from Santa?

 

I hadn't anticipated the question, so I bumbled something about telling Santa to share their gifts with kids who weren't going to get any, because we were blessed to get so many from so many wonderful people in our life.

 

This year, I have a new perspective on this whole Santa thing....

 

It is part of that humble + blessed part of our life right now.

 

We are surrounded by the most close and loving people this winter. I feel like life is a big woolen hug.

 

This year, I am acutely aware that Santa is the spirit of these beautiful people who feel blessed to share with us. Santa is their love. Santa is their kindness and generosity. Santa is their darlinghearts and their service. Santa is their abundance and the overflow that they share.

 

Santa has already started to bring us gifts. And I never would have believed that I would find places in the van to squirrel them away :))

 

So, when the poem says,

I can pass through keyholes, windows and locks,
Apartment buildings, hospitals, tents, and trailer lots.

and it says

It's hard to understand when I don't leave a toy:
You can't unwrap a gift like hope or health or joy.

you probably understand why it makes me bawl like the sappy mama I am.

This is the season of giving, and I am learning so much about the gift of receiving. I have always been a giver, but it was just in the past month or 2 that I felt peace with receiving. I see the joy and blessings on the face and in the life of the giver. I feel more deeply connected to the person, and they to me.

It is a beautiful thing.

I think I am going to find a fun and creative way to decorate the van. I look forward to pulling out our winter holiday basket, touching our past, connecting to our traditions and the love that has gone into this holiday historically for us.

I am filled with so many stories that I would love to share with you. I am blessed to have a cup that runneth over, a cup that will spill into more blog posts love letters for you in the next couple weeks ♥

Until next time, stay warm and cozy, and soak this poem in, my love...