SANTA BELIEVES
by Charles Dale Gray
(Written Dec. 28, 1993)
Midnight was silent
Except for the toll
Of the bell in the chapel
Down south of the knoll
From the edge of town
It called laddie and lass
To bow down in worship
At Christ’s Midnight Mass
Few bothered coming
T’was Christmas you know
The wind was quite chilling
It had started to snow
But Grandma and I
We knew what was right
So we got bundled up
And slipped out into the night
The streets were abandoned
To the soft moonlit snow
A few of the street lamps
Continued to glow
Our shadows so dark
Stretched before us unending
On sidewalks of white
That through town were extending
With thoughts of the Christ child
And Santa mixed in
I looked up at Grandma
And wondered within
Does Jesus think Santa
Is real - or a fake
Somehow this question
I couldn’t quite shake
But my thoughts were disturbed
By the howl of the wind
And the flurries of snow
As the cold settled in
We arrived in the courtyard
Again the bell tolls
One final call
From the church by the knoll
My hand Grandma took
As she led me along
Right passed the front doors
Where enters the throng
Around to the side
She guided me on
Across the expanse
Of the snow covered lawn
And there, hollowed out
In the side of the wall
A niche or a chamber
Had there been installed
And inside the niche
Protected by glass
Was a nine foot tall Christus
Hand chiseled, not cast
How thrilling, how moving
To behold such a view
So radiant, so glowing
His amber like hue
I yearned to be with Him,
Of His love partake
My heart began pounding
I felt it would break
My mind then recalled
A recent reflection
I looked up at Grandma
And asked her this question
“Does Jesus believe
In ‘ol' Santa Claus?”
The question so startling
Caused Grandma to pause
“Why of course child,” she said,
Hesitating a bit
“They are very good friends.
I’m quite sure of it.”
I hated to leave
But Grandma insisted
She tugged at my hand
As I gently resisted
She led me around
And through the front doors
Into a large room
Where worship churchgoers
We sat near the front
On the chapel’s north side
Beside a large window
That o’er looked the hillside
My mind began wandering
And my eyes did explore
From the high lofty ceilings
To the dull well worn floor
I glanced out the window
As my eyes wandered ‘round
I saw four pair of reindeer
All standing around
The reindeer’s attention
All seemed to be drawn
To someone, or something
On the snow covered lawn
My eyes tried to focus
They tried to adjust
What my eyes now saw clearly
My mind did distrust
With great disbelief
I stared at the scene
I could scarcely believe it
It wasn’t routine
This was Santa… or sometimes
He’s known as St. Nick
With red suit . . . and fur
Like his beard, white and thick
But his hands, they were bare
And his gloves were tossed down
His hat was off too
He had knelt to the ground
In the light from the Christus
His face warmly glowed
With a great look of earnest
That I could not decode
He was there just beyond
The hollowed out place
By the statue of Christ
That I longed to embrace
I know not what he said
I know not what he spoke
Besides, it was private
Not meant for us folk
But as quick as he came
He was gone in a flash
And out of the church house
I made a mad dash
But all that remained
Of the Santa-Christ scene
Was a jumble of tracks where
The reindeer had been
Now Grandma had said
Christ and Santa were friends
And the message important
That this story sends
Two men that give
Two examples to follow
One drives a sleigh
One stands in the hollow
The thing that’s important
Which I learned from Grandmother
Is that Santa believes
In my Elder Brother
by Charles
Dale Gray
Copyright ©1993
All Rights Reserved
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