Kristin & The Santa Secret
By Christopher Fenoglio
’Tis a secret as precious than silver and gold
With a truth that is sought by the young and the old.
In the magic of Christmas and all its appeal,
Do you silently question if Santa is real?
In a sleigh pulled by reindeer and powered by flight,
Santa magically visits each house in one night.
Then he fills all the stockings of good girls and boys
With delicious confections and marvelous toys.
There are numerous names for this jolly old elf:
Father Christmas, St. Nicholas, Kris Kringle himself.
But the truth about Santa is more than his name;
It’s a Christmas conundrum that’s rarely the same.
So to millions of children who search for a clue
And their parents who long for an answer that’s true,
Please consider this tale of a curious girl
Who discovers the truth about love in the world.
***
When her father brings home a big tree for the den
And her mother hangs stockings and tinsel again,
When the weather turns colder and snowflakes appear,
Little Kristin is certain that Christmas is near.
Then she sings about Santa Claus coming to town
With a lilt in her voice, such a beautiful sound.
She likes Rudolph and Blitzen and toy-making elves
And displays all her Christmas dolls high on her shelves.
But the one she loves most is the man who wears red
And delivers her gifts while she’s sleeping in bed.
A precocious young girl, she’s determined to learn
All she can about Santa before his return.
As her mother bakes cookies that sweeten the air,
Helpful Kristin makes faces with icing and care.
But her thoughts are on Santa, on legends and truth,
So she turns to her parents with questions of youth.
“Can you tell me why Santa gets dressed all in red?
Does he know to watch out for the planes overhead?
Will he take all the cookies we put on the plate?
Does he eat healthy meals? Is he watching his weight?
“Do his reindeer get tired? Do they ever get rest?
Should we feed them some apples? Perhaps carrots are best?
I just don’t understand how he builds all the toys
And delivers them here without making a noise.”
Peeking over his glasses, Father smiles along
So to savor a moment he wants to prolong,
Because parents can recognize innocence lost
And will try to contain it, no matter the cost.
But the longing for knowledge should not be restrained,
It’s a hunger to nourish, an impulse to train.
Still the greatest enrichment of young, spreading wings
Is a solid foundation for whatever life brings.
After dinner they walk down the street past the stores
With the bright decorations and wreaths on the doors.
All the lamp posts are covered with ribbons and bows
And the courthouse has so many lights that it glows.
On the corner four Santas are singing a song
While two others are gracefully dancing along.
‘Cross the street a tall Santa is ringing a bell
As a short one hangs garland and flowers to sell.
Inside Norbert’s Department Store, under a light
Sits a Santa who poses for photos all night.
With a white flowing beard and a red velvet suit,
He is truly Kris Kringle, right down to his boots.
When he shouts “Ho! Ho! Ho!” all the children rejoice,
But there’s something familiar in the sound of his voice.
She has heard it before, causing Kristin to think,
“Is this Santa the plumber who fixes our sink?”
“If this isn’t the one who brings toys on our lists,
Did the real one retire? Did he ever exist?”
Quite confused and dismayed, Kristin speaks to the night:
“There are too many Santas, so something’s not right!”
Once inside of their home, before anything’s said,
Kristin’s parents lay down her two brothers in bed.
Then they whisper to Kristin “It’s time that we tell
You the truth about Santa and Christmas as well.”
With a mixture of wonder, excitement and dread,
Kristin nervously sits on the edge of their bed.
Then the door is locked tightly so brothers won’t hear
The discussion of Santa and secrets so dear.
With a wink Father takes from the uppermost shelf
A dark brown wooden box that he carved by himself.
As he places the box in her delicate hands,
Her two parents are hopeful that she’ll understand.
With a slow, gentle lift, Kristin gazes inside
To discover a bundle wrapped tightly and tied.
She uncovers a clue to the jolly old elf
When she raises a mirror and looks at herself.
“You are Santa, dear daughter, like Mother and me.
There are millions of Santas, as real as can be.
He’s alive in our neighbors, our family, our town,
Which is why you see so many Santas around.
“When Our Father so lovingly gave us His Son
’Twas the ultimate gift, a tradition begun.
When we give to each other, we duplicate Love
And begin to resemble the Giver above.
“We continue as Santas to spread the good cheer
With our presents to family and friends far and near.
But the size of the gift matters not if it’s small
For in giving, His love is the present for all.”
Then her eyes widen brightly as knowledge appears.
“May I help you be Santa with presents this year?”
“Yes, of course,” Father says with a smile and a nod.
“That is how we remember the goodness of God.”
***
So the next time you question if Santa is real,
Place your hand on your heart and describe what you feel.
For within you, dear children, even as you grow old
Is the Love that’s more precious than silver and gold.
THE END
© 2008, 2015 Christopher Fenoglio/Stopher Publishing. This manuscript may not be
copied or electronically transmitted without the expressed written consent of the author.
For more information, contact the author at (615) 943-1244.
Background
Chris and Linda Fenoglio knew it was time to tell their
oldest child (Kristin, age 9) the truth about Santa Claus.
They wanted to tell her themselves, before she talked to
classmates on the playground. As parents with a strong
Christian faith, they created this method to teach Kristin
(and later their two sons) about the true meaning of
Christmas in a manner that also retained some of the magic
and mystery of Santa Claus.
When he renewed his writing career in 2002, Chris wrote a
feature about this special method in the local Catholic
newspaper. Upon hearing that the paper planned to reprint
his article the next year, Fenoglio began work on his poem
“Kristin and the Santa Secret.”