“Children” said our teacher, “it’s that time of year! We’re going to have our Christmas party and share some yuletide cheer!”
She started with a storybook that held my heart and mind, something about a Santa Claus and the things he left behind.
I’d never seen a sugarplum! My folks didn’t have too much and we "nestled" all together all us brothers in a bunch.
But this Santa seemed an ok sort, in spite of breaking in. He left things that families needed… inside their socks even!
Then teacher told us of the lists this strange man carried ‘round. If you were on that good one, treats - on the bad one, coal was found.
That got my mind to racing. “I’ll do just that,” I’d thought. So, I smacked the kid beside me although nothing was his fault.
Throughout the Christmas party, I was nasty as could be. I was getting on that naughty list. Santa HAD to notice me.
It got so bad, the teacher sent me to the office door, and they called Dad at work to say, “he’s never been this way before.”
They questioned and they scolded, they even called me tragic… but I refused to stop that day… I needed Santa’s magic.
I carried on with being bad, as I had done before. I didn’t have long to work on this, I needed to do more.
I cut my hair, I broke my chair, I yelled, and I talked back. I stole my best friend’s lunchbox and ate up every single snack.
I made every person that I knew mad, or hurt, or disappointed… but I was on a mission so I carried on undaunted.
“I had to, I just had to,” was all that I could say, because no one understood the reason I had misbehaved.
My days to get on that naughty list were quickly running out, but I had to keep on going - Santa HAD to help me out.
If it was mean or gross or horrible, I was guilty of it all, and when my brothers were mean later - I gladly took the fall.
The night before Christmas at my house, I taped a clean sock to the wall. My brothers all laughed at my “stocking” saying I would get nothing at all.
“He thinks there is a Santa!” laughed Peter. “And that he’ll get a present!” snorted Jeff.
I just had to keep on believing. I only had one nighttime left.
“Please Jesus,” I prayed, “please let it be full. I’m not really bad. I don’t like being cruel.
Surely You most of all are the One that can see, it was the only way I knew how to give a gift from me.
My teacher told the story, we all had heard the rules. So I had to be good on the inside, but bad on the outside at school.
Yes, I decided then and there to be the best at being bad. See, our house ain’t been warm all winter and our mom she’s been sick and real sad.
If I could misbehave and get just one good chunk of coal, we could put it in our fireplace and she could be warm, not cold.
Please please please dear Jesus, please help Santa find my house… now that You know my secret… now that You have found me out.“
I thought I heard a noise then, as I whispered my Amen. It was probably just Alex, kicking our headboard again.
Then that was it, my time was up until I awoke on Christmas morning. I listened all night afraid my brothers were right, for I had heard nothing but snoring.
Later the sun hit my eyes, and I looked for my sock on our wall. But much to my chagrin there was nothing there at all!
So, I rushed around the bed to see my sock had fallen behind the door and there were many giant chucks of lovely coal upon the floor.
I laughed and laughed and laughed so much I woke my brothers up. “Ha Ha? But coal was all you got.” And it was much more than enough.
I grabbed my sock and ran toward the fireplace with glee, and mother in her rocking chair just rocked and smiled at me.
“Merry Christmas son,” was all she’d said as I lit the precious flame. “Don’t worry Mom, I’ll get us warm because Santa Claus - he came!”
Dad stepped inside just in time to help me stoke the fire, and my brothers gathered round it too - they’d stopped calling me a liar.
“See! Santa Claus is very real.” Dad started to explain. And Jesus? Well, he's real too. He's how Christmas got it's name.”
When dad finished with the fire, he just looked at mom and smiled. It was the first time I’d seen him do that in a really long while.
“One of you boys has been real bad, and this cannot go on.” He turned to me and said. “Is your misbehaving done?”
“Yes sir," I solemn promised to behave the way I should. Then daddy said, “I’m proud of you for deciding to be good.”
“And, I’m proud that you’re not selfish. I’m proud that you are smart. And I’m proud you took initiative when many never start.”
“And though you know you misbehaved, you did have valid reason. So, I’m going to forgive you son… because this is the season.”
