Santa Claus

When I was a kid, I was told that there was really a Santa Claus. My sister and I would hang our socks at the window. On Christmas Eve, we would find that the two socks were already filled with chocolates and other stuffs. Then with a thankful and fascinated smile, we would later be convinced that there was really a true Santa Claus, one who rides in a sleigh with Rudolf and other reindeers, just like in any Christmas stories and movies. Then I would said a prayer for the gifts that I have received and would wish that next Christmas day, I would still receive presents from him. Every year, we would do our best to be the good girls that our parents hoped us to be and apart from that, I guess extra effort not to fight each other so that Santa would continue giving us gifts.

Years passed by and I figured out that it was only my father who puts the gifts in our socks. More years had passed and the Santa thing had stopped…. Well, but not the gift giving. It was expected that on Christmas Day we would receive presents from our parents, the one that we had wished, longed and I guess gained for the entire year.

As kids, we grew up in a simple home filled with love and compassion. Growing up as a kid, I become aware that helping is something one should be generous to offer. Sharing is a must. Giving should come from one’s heart. It is but a sin to be selfish. Sacrificing for love ones, is something not taught to us directly but one thing I’ve given a personal definition just by merely seeing and observing my parents.

Though we are not the type of family who would kiss and say “I love you” to each other, we were expressive in some other ways. Though we hardly say those words, I knew in my heart that it would be more than that if would be verbalized. When I was a kid, whenever my father was sick, I would go to the restroom and would cry and pray hard to God to make him well. I would even convince God that I would shoulder half of his sickness just to make him feel better…And I would do that every time..a simple way (and must say secret way) of paying them back from the goodness they have always and consistently shown. I am more than convinced that I will never find the same set of parents who would give the same love just like what they are giving us now…unconditional. I know I may lose everything that I have…but not the love my parents have for me.

They are the first ones who instilled the values that I have. They taught me how to love, to care, to help, to trust and trust for the second and many times. They are the ones who taught me how to forgive and not to nurse grudges. I have seen that in them for so many times and for so many people who have caused them unfairness and falseness. They never imposed us any thing. They never compelled us to do things in harmony of what they want. They never pushed us to things opposites our likes and dreams. They never told us to be someone who is not the “individual” that we have later discovered ourselves to be, but instead, they have accepted us… together with our strengths and shortcomings. They supported us in our dreams. They guided us in our quest. They constantly remind us the person that we are every time we lose our way. They never failed to instill God in our lives…the hope and the faith that they have, have served us great influence.

It is so much difficult to break their trust and do things that would give them pain, disgrace and disappointments. Must admit that I have attempted so many times, consciously/unconsciously, but whenever I am reminded with the love that they have shown and the sacrifice that they have done…it breaks my heart in to million pieces. I would rather let go of my self-centered pleasure than to see them miserably in pain. I don’t want to take the risk of being accepted after causing them aches. I would rather spare them from that. True, that It is so much difficult to hurt the person who gives you nothing but genuine love. It is like suicide or perhaps forever mental torture of so much guilt.

Now that I have grown so far from being a kid (and is growing still), I now understand the feeling when you know that the people you love and care for are happy. Happiness goes to me thousand folds. It is simply irreplaceable. Nothing compares with the sight and feeling that I am making them happy with the things I do and give. I used to dream for my own future, propelled by the support and encouragement of my parents. Now, my dreams are fuelled by the thought of giving them joy and pride. My dreams are a lot meaningful because these become also for them. Every day is like a Christmas Day…as if an opportunity to be a Santa Claus and makes so many children smile. It is as if my parents are the kids that my sister and I used to be when we were still kids…and “us” the Santa that they have been.

"Sacrifice becomes passion and passion becomes a means to make a person’s dream close to reality and a person’s heart happy."- I guess, this is also a "Santa Claus" way of living...