Dear Santa

The other day the weirdest thing happened to me. I'm grown up, graduated college and I've known since I was 12 the true story behind the magical man we call Santa. So why then, when I ran into Santa at the Roadhome the other day, did I have a HUGE desire to sit on Santa's lap and tell him what was going on in my life and tell him what I truly wanted for Christmas? It was as if somewhere inside of me I still believed that he could bring me comfort and tell me that he will do his best to bring me what I want. As I walked away with the Guardian Angel coin he had left me (yes it is still in my pocket) I asked myself where in the heck did that come from? And then I started to question why my faith in Christ is not that strong. When did I loose the childish faith that I believed Christ had the power to do everything and that I could ask for anything and somehow he would make my life okay. It's not that I've lost faith by any means. I still know that he's there and he's helped me more than I would ever dare ask for. But that's the problem isn't it? When Santa came you asked for everything. You always understood that you might not get everything but it never stopped you from asking and the next year you still believed and asked again. But I think when I pray I forget to ask. Most of all I don't believe. I think there's a multitude of things I have to do and that I won't receive the answer right away because that's what everyone tells me. Well this Christmas I want to believe. I want to imagine that somehow I can sit on his lap and tell him how this year has gone and everything I want for Christmas and then know that if I leave my hope in him I won't be disappointed (Isaiah 49:23).