A Bazaar Memory in Ritzville

I was at the door of the Ritzville Christmas Bazaar just minutes after it opened. Soon, I spotted a pretty blonde slowly weaving through the growing crowd. It was my niece, Avia, and as she neared I saw a tiny blonde girl, her perfect features framed in fuchsia faux fur and her eyes sparkling with excitement, holding tight to her mommy’s index finger. Avia, Annie and I were there for Annie’s first encounter with Santa Claus.

Annie knows about Santa through books, kiddie shows, ads, and the miscellany that accompanies Christmas. She has adopted as her current favorite a Santa doll that, with batteries (which it currently lacks because her parents are smart), hip swivels to Elvis’ Blue Christmas. It shares her high chair at every meal and her crib during naps. But as we can all guess if not quite remember, knowing about Santa doesn’t even come close to meeting the real thing.

Avia and I flanked Annie as we headed toward the stairway to the stage where Santa was seated. We asked, “Are you ready to see Santa?” Annie didn’t respond. Her eyes were wide with all that she was seeing. After all, Annie was accustomed to being carried on Daddy’s shoulders through crowds, but carrying her any distance is not realistic for her Mommy who is eight months’ pregnant.

It occurred to me that just maneuvering through the bazaar could be quite the mind-boggling experience for her. I know the terror it brings to Mark’s face, and he doesn’t have the disadvantage of being two feet tall. Although I didn’t see that in hers, I did see a large measure of curiosity and caution. From her viewpoint she was weaving through a forest of legs with an undergrowth of shuffling shoes, boots and socks, all a jumble of chaotic motion. She had no power over where she went and had no choice but to trust that her mommy and great auntie (that’s me) would keep her safe.

We climbed the few stairs to the stage and rounded the drape, and seated there before us was Santa. We drew within three feet of him, Annie’s eyes growing bigger and her attention more rapt with every step. Suddenly she stopped, her little fists grasping our index fingers with white-tipped urgency. Her unblinking focus was full-on, even as Avia suggested “Can you say hi to Santa?” She said nothing. She stared, her little mouth formed into a silent O. Santa beckoned her closer, and then asked the magic words: “How old are you, Annie?”

She released her mommy’s finger to accompany her response of “One, two” with those precious little fingers counting out the numbers. And then with a blur of motion she tightly re-grasped Avia’s finger.

She didn’t really want to close in on Santa. She may have even run had we not been with her. Instead, Avia picked her up and together they went to Santa where Annie was placed upon his knee and rapidly, two pictures were taken. In both, Annie was studying him intently, concentration wreathing her perfect little face.

After about sixty seconds, she’d had enough and raised her arms to Avia, saying “Uppie, uppie” Avia complied.

We took her back into the bazaar, and after several minutes her attention was drawn to the stage where Santa was surrounded by other little ones. She gasped and exclaimed loudly, “Santa Claus”, so excited that her little body trembled. Possibly she was too overwhelmed by the experience to fully engage when she was on the stage with Santa, but at this point she was excited indeed!

A child’s belief in Santa is a wondrous part of Christmas. It is in ways similar to Mark’s and my trusting, confident, fully engaged, wholly rewarding faith in Jesus Christ.

But Jesus is no myth. He lives, He saves, and He is truly the Reason for the Season!

Merry Christmas to all.