Do you believe in miracles?

Once upon a time, when a day really felt like 24 hours worth of time, people would advise me to cherish my children’s youth. “They grow up so quickly,” they would say. I would acknowledge the comment with a nod and think them silly for making the statement. Time is a constant measure, and certainly my son would grow at the usual rate.

Indeed, when young BoBo was in his terrible twos, he seemed to defy all norms. He moved as if propelled by a tornado, and bounced right back up from each of his falls. All the while, I was wishing that the time would speed up just a little bit so that the terrible twos would end. He wore me out. In a flash they were gone, only to be replaced with the trying threes. But as BoBo grew more capable with each passing day, I began to realize that time was passing too quickly. At that point, I was wishing that time would slow down.

When BoBo was in pre-school he learned about “Apricot Lincoln,” and the miraculous birth of Jesus. He wowed us in the school concert when he recited, “R is for reverence, warship and praise.” He drank in the holiday magic as much as he enjoyed opening his presents. Then one Christmas BoBo stopped believing in Santa. My husband, Tom, and I had figured that it was only a matter of time before the opinions of the older kids would sway him. Even thought I was anticipated, it was still very disappointing.

Tom pulled BoBo aside and reminded him about miracles and just how wonderful believing had been. He pointed out, to BoBo, that YaYa deserved to enjoy the magic of Christmas too. BoBo understood the message loud and clear, and asked if he could help make the magic for his little brother. We agreed.

That Christmas, at BoBo’s suggestion, we began leaving carrots for the reindeer as well as cookies and milk for Santa. BoBo helped YaYa to let Santa know that he had been good by writing the letter to Santa. He even made sure that Santa ate the cookies and milk, and the reindeer ate their carrots. He even saw to it that Santa wrote back to YaYa. It was the only year that Santa took the time to write a note back to any of the kids. It was truly a special year.

Many years have passed since that Christmas. BoBo has still not ruined the magic for his younger brother, even though there have been many other kids that have tried. With eight days left, I have much left to do. I have yet to buy the ingredients for Santa’s special cookies, as well as many of the presents. Like all of the rest, I want this Christmas to be one of good memories too. As much as I know that we cannot forget Tom’s absence, I don’t want to let the sadness suck the joy out of the season.

I do not know what miracles will fill my Christmas this year, but I hope that I can continue to believe enough to let a bit of magic do its work. You are never too old to believe.