The Day I Met Santa

The day I met Santa is a day I’ll never forget. It wasn’t at the North Pole. It was in Alaska. He wasn't in a sleigh. He was on a cruise ship. And he wasn’t in his typical attire. He was on vacation.

I was sitting on the lido deck of the M.S. Eurodam having lunch. Two men near me were reflecting on the good old days of television. One asked the other if he remembered Red Buttons the comedic actor. “I remember Red Skelton, but not Red Buttons,” came the response. I reached for my iPhone and Googled a Red Buttons photo. I approached the two strangers. “You mean this guy?” I said with a smile.

Thus began lengthy conservation. Seeing my Seattle Pacific sweatshirt, the taller of the two men indicated that his son-in-law was a professor at my alma mater. I explained my fifty-year relationship with the university. The shorter gentleman, the one who hadn’t recalled Red Buttons, redeemed himself by admitting his fascination with red clothes.

Pat told me that for the past two decades he has been a shopping mall Santa. He described how his seasonal retirement job provides him with an opportunity as a Christ-follower to put feet to his faith. Tears filled his eyes as he shared about how kids and their parents have left their imprint on his heart. As I asked him to describe specific scenarios, Pat verbalized heartrending details of how children of all ages confess their hopes and dreams at Christmastime.

“Kids from broken families long for their estranged parents to be reconciled,” he told me. “And older folks admit to their loneliness having lost a mate during the year.”

When I asked how he responded to them, he told me that he isn’t allowed to pray for them while seated in Santa’s chair. “But I definitely do,” Pat assured me. “I tell them I will be praying for them as I hand them a candy cane.”

Before our week-long cruise was over, Pat and I had a few other visits. Against the backdrop of glaciers and forested mountains, my new friend described his dysfunctional upbringing in the home of an alcoholic. He traced a life journey that included his own battle with the bottle, health challenges, a fascination with baseball and a growing faith in God. Our conversations always came back to the joy he celebrated in a sober lifestyle and the joy he finds wearing a Santa suit every December.

My new friend delights in bringing God’s love to others much like a young Greek Christian by the name of Nicholas who became Bishop of Myra in the fourth century. St. Nicholas, as he came to be called after his death, embodied the spirit of one whose birth we celebrate on Christmas. His generosity, self-effacing humility and love of children lives on in the legend of the white bearded man in the red suit seventeen centuries after his death.

While some rail against Santa for upstaging the baby Jesus, I am more inclined to see the fictional character through the lens of the real-life Christian who inspired him. Just think about it. Santa portrays a loveable person genuinely interested in the unmet needs and desires of others. He is the kind of person who takes the initiative to inquire about a person’s life and then takes the time to listen. The world would be a much better place if we took our cues from the legendary gift giver who took his cues from a 4^th century saint.

And this year I’m taking my cues from the Santa I met on a cruise ship who takes delight in being the arms and hands of the One who showed us the Creator’s heart in a Bethlehem barn.