It was one of those Christmases we’ll always remember. After a whirlwind courtship, my wife and I had gotten married in our small hometown, then moved to Los Angeles to try our luck in the big city. I had boldly enrolled in law school, while my new bride worked full-time at Nordstrom to support our new family. My wife’s beautiful little daughter was just 3 years old at the time, and looking forward to the upcoming holiday season in a new home with her new daddy. I had become an instant father when we were married and had grown to love her little daughter as my own.

This was a transitional time for all of us; where old traditions were changed and new ones made, either out of necessity or design. As poor students, we had very little money and probably even less sense. What we did have was a great love for each other and the blind faith that God would bless our new life together.

The first year of law school had been challenging to say the least. Most of my time was spent studying. Having been out of college for 10 years, it took every mega-byte of brainpower I could muster to keep up with my younger, and seemingly more brilliant, classmates. Between the head-banging paper chase, my wife’s work schedule, and our young daughter’s daycare, our little family was stretched in many different directions, just doing the things that had to be done.

I finally had a break from the books for the holiday season, and was blessed to land a part-time job as “Santa Claus” at Nordstrom’on the same floor where my wife worked. It seems I was uniquely qualified for the job, having put on a few extra pounds, sitting all day studying. I didn’t mention in my job application that I was a first-year law student, as I was afraid they might think a lawyer playing Santa Claus would be the ultimate oxymoron. At least my wife and I were able to have some quality time together, eating our sack lunches in the break room (I, still in my Santa suit), discussing how we were going to make this Christmas a special one for our new family… with little or no budget.

A few days before Christmas, things were getting down to the wire. We had both been working long hours for the holiday rush. As Santa Claus, I had lifted hundreds of kids onto my knee, had my beard snapped on numerous occasions, and was beginning to lose my voice from all the obligatory “Ho, Ho, Ho’ing.” The novelty of this ‘Santa thing’ was beginning to wear thin. I did my best to smile as each child announced their list of special gifts they wanted for Christmas. And I came to know intimately all the new, hot toys and gadgets, which were being blitzed by the media for the holiday season. Partly out of compassion for their anxious parents, but mostly out of concern for my own limited finances, I made sure each child knew they might not get everything on their Christmas list. But, I assured them, if they were extra-good and minded their Mommy and Daddy, I would definitely bring them something special for Christmas. The parents would smile a sigh of relief, as they took their little one from my lap to rush off and finish their holiday shopping.

My last night on the job was, of course, Christmas Eve. My wife was scheduled to work late that night, as the retail frenzy hit its peak. I was pacing myself, and counting my “Ho, Ho, Ho’s,” thinking of all the last-minute things we still had to do to get ready
for our own Christmas morning.

Toward the end of my shift, I glanced down the line of brightly dressed children and saw our own little daughter waiting patiently to see Santa. My wife had picked her up from daycare and brought her to the store, where I would soon be taking over the parental duties until she got off work. We had unconsciously been putting off taking our daughter to see Santa, as we knew it would most likely be a sparse Christmas this year. Even at 3 years old, our daughter seemed to sense that Santa wouldn’t be able to bring everything on her Christmas list.

When it was her turn to see Santa, I disguised my voice and gave my best “Ho, Ho, Ho,” calling her by name, to impress upon her that I was the real deal. As she gazed into my old-fashioned reading glasses, her big, brown eyes were wide with the wonder and anticipation of Christmas. She smiled and put her little arms around my stuffed, Santa belly and said, “I love you Santa.” My heart began to melt and I almost fell out of character…. I gently hugged her back, and said, “I love you too.”

Regaining my composure, I launched into my Santa routine and was about to ask her what she wanted for Christmas when, suddenly, she interrupted me with an announcement. “I have a new Daddy this year!” Caught off guard, I attempted to play along and added, “Why yes, you certainly do. I’ve known Michael since he was a little boy.” Her little face lit up with excitement at the idea that Santa Claus knew her new Daddy as a child. She also seemed a bit relieved to know that Santa approved of the whole situation. I then whispered hoarsely through the lump that was rising in my throat, “And Michael loves you very much.” She smiled one of those perfect, cherubic smiles, so warm and tender, that I thought for a moment she saw right through my disguise.

In one last attempt to somehow make this Christmas a special one, I thought I’d let her know that even Santa Claus knew the real meaning of Christmas; that it wasn’t just about presents and toys; that it was the birthday of “baby Jesus” we celebrate during this wonderful season. I told her, “You know… someone else loves you too.” I must have said it with some special inflection, because her eyes became even wider with anticipation. Leaning down, I whispered in her ear, “Jesus loves you too.” Her response was typical of her unique self-confidence, even at her young age. “I know that,” she said, just as content as could be. I exchanged a knowing glance with my wife, who was relishing every precious moment of what would most likely be the highlight of our first Christmas together as a family.

Our little girl then quickly shared with Santa some of the things on her Christmas list. I could tell she was being conservative with her requests. Then, I helped her down off my knee and she bounced into my wife’s waiting arms with a big, happy hug. As I looked around for the next waiting child, unexpectedly, my little daughter jumped back onto the platform with a big smile on her face. Placing her little hand to the side of her mouth, she whispered loudly, “Santa, thank you for my new Daddy!” She then leaped off the platform and took her Mother’s hand in hers. My heart skipped a beat and almost burst with emotion…. A tear ran down my rosy cheek and quickly disappeared into my Santa beard. I gazed at my new bride, as we both tried to maintain our composure in the middle of the crowded department store. My wife gave me a long, loving look, as she hugged our daughter once more.

As I watched them, the full meaning of the holiday season seemed to fill me as never before. I thought to myself, this was but a small glimpse of what Joseph must have felt when he looked upon his new bride, Mary, and her precious son, Jesus, on that very first Christmas so long ago. Through the eyes of our own little girl, I had, indeed, seen the true meaning of Christmas. Yes, it was a Christmas we’ll never forget.

— By Michael W. Hall

Michael W. Hall, a 1971 graduate of Edmonds High School, is a local attorney who enjoys fly fishing, writing and “all things Fortean.”