Libby Baker Sweiger

Christmas Magic and our Journeys to the North Pole

For young children there is no confusion between believing the account of the Christ child’s birth — the real meaning of Christmas — and the magical tale of Santa and his North Pole workshop and the toys he brings to little girls and boys.

“Oh east is east, and west is west,
And never the twain shall meet–
Until they come to the end of the earth,
To Santa Claus’ retreat.”
― Walter R. Brooks

In our family, we kids lived with this dichotomy for many years. Years longer than our friends. We knew Santa was real because our dad and mom had taken us to the North Pole and Santa’s Village, many, many times.

Santa Answering Letters at the North Pole

Somewhere in the state of Colorado, high up in the Rockies, my father knew of a village replicated after the storybook renditions of Santa’s Village at the North Pole. After many days of driving in the summertime, we climbed high into the Rockies above Colorado Springs, above Pike’s Peak, past the cabin my grandma Meme owned to the North Pole. It looked just like summer at Santa’s village and we delighted to travel there. My dad and mom were always excited to show us every inch of the beautiful village, introduce us to the elves they had grown to know so well over the years, and finally to Mr. and Mrs. Claus. We sat on Santa’s lap and told him what our hearts desired, and within reason, we always got what we asked for! Sometimes even if it was a puppy or kitty!

It’s no wonder then that we argued with our friends incessantly as they tried to tell is there was no such thing as Santa Claus…we had been to the North Pole and met the real Santa! Not his helpers, the department store Santas everyone else had met, but the very real one!

It’s no wonder I believed in Santa until I was nine years old! 🙂
That Christmas was the last Christmas my parents were together. When I think of that night I am overwhelmed with nostalgia and I wonder for just a moment, why they ever parted. I know the answer in my head, but my child’s heart twinges as I think of that night.

I awoke to a noise I heard in the family room of our new house. I tiptoed down the stairs and peered around the corner from the kitchen. I could see my mom putting the stockings up on the mantel. The stockings! Santa’s private domain. My dad was assembling a toy by the tree. They were talking softly and laughing. I thought, well there they are, they are Santa after all. My friends were right.

For a moment I felt foolish, and then I looked at the warm, loving scene before me. All seemed right with the world. I felt older and quite wise. I thought I was witnessing something beautiful: love. I tiptoed back up the stairs and went to sleep. The next morning dawned sunny and clear with new fallen snow. It was an extraordinary Christmas! God bless you all! I hope yours this year is as well! Love, Libby

My house now, this Christmas

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Posted in Children, Christianity, Christmas, Dad, Family, God, Love, Mom and tagged santa claus retreat

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