Yes, Virginia

September 21, 1897

Dear Editor: I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.' Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?

Virginia O'Hanlon, 115 West Ninety-Fifth Street.


"VIRGINIA O'HANLON.
"115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET."

Thus begins the most well know editorial ever written in a newspaper. Most editorials are tossed out with the trash or end up at the bottom of a bird cage. Some of them may be stashed away for future reference, but are often lost and forgotten as generations pass. However, this one, written by Francis P. Church, over one-hundred years ago is read over and over every single year. There's at least one movie about it and thousands of printings can be found folded in books, tucked away in drawers or neatly preserved and brought out every year in sermons or parties or blogs like this one. Search the Internet and you'll find page after page of references to it with all sorts of stories behind the story, some true, some fictional, but all based on this one little letter by an 8 year old girl.

In their innocence and purity children have the uncanny ability of making adults stop and think about things they have ignored, taken for granted or about which they just outright hadn't given too much thought. How does a lightning bug make light? Where do the stars go in the daytime? Where to babies come from? Instead of letting people die and having to make new ones, why doesn't God just keep the old ones? In Bible times did they really talk like that? I was at a wedding and they kissed. Is it okay to kiss in church?

At what age do we stop believing? At what age do we quit asking questions? At what age do we just become apathetic to the world in which we live? When did church become boring instead of a chance to talk about God? When did Christmas become a chore instead of a time to which we looked forward with eager expectations? When did life become more mundane and less of an adventure?

"You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood."

Jesus told us unless we become like little children we will never enter the kingdom of heaven (Matt. 18:3). Humility, purity, innocence, goodness and seeking to learn are but a few of the traits that are a part of each at every one of us at birth, before the world starts to take hold. It is only when we begin to look at the world through the eyes of a child that we can truly see what it looks like.

Christmas is a time to think about what life is really all about. It's a time to focus on a baby born thousands of years ago in a purity that would never be tainted by the ways of the world and man. It's a time to gather again those things we lost from our hearts. It's a time to start believing again.

"This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in rags and lying in a manger."

Family Reunions

This past weekend I went to the first family reunion I had been to in over 10 years. Like many families the Minton family has always made it a point to get together on a yearly basis to keep in touch. I believe this is an important part of a family's legacy and should be a practice that every family should make a part of their tradition.

While driving home my mind raced back to reunions of years past. I remember the Fourth of July reunions that took place in I believe my Uncle Carl's back yard when he lived next door to my Granny Minton. I remember when the cousins went around to all the uncles gathering everyone's change together and then being carted off to the fireworks stand returning with a treasure box of exploding missiles, bottle rockets and Roman candles.

I thought of all the Christmas' that the family would get together in Granny's house. I remembered the joking and laughter of my aunts and uncles and the cousins racing through the house and being made sure their every need was met by Granny. I can still hear the knock on the door as my Uncle Clyde came in dressed like Santa Claus. "Where's your reindeer?" several of us shouted. Without a pause he quickly told us "You didn't have a chimney so I parked them down at the corner." Of course we all believed him.

The sounds of dominoes shuffling as my uncles played "42" at the kitchen table are still clear in my head. I see my Aunt Mary enjoying and doting over every niece and nephew. I hear the distinctive laugh of my Uncle Troy. I listened to my Uncle Carl talk about the antique Ford he was restoring in his garage. In fact as I remember it, every single aunt and uncle had a great fondness for every niece and nephew. I can still see the presents, taste the food, hear the stories, smell the tree and feel the presence of love in the small house in Dallas, Texas.

Years later as I returned it was all still there. Yes, most of my aunts and uncles are now gone, but their spirit lives on in their children and grandchildren. There were familiar and not so familiar faces yet there was still a bond that pulsated through the room. It was the bond of family. A bond of love that had been started years ago by a hard working matriarch. A woman who after the death of her husband was left with a house full of children for whom to provide. A woman who I watched iron clothes for a living at 10 and 15 cents a piece when most women her age were sitting in rocking chairs on the front porch. As I look at the house full of people I thought to myself, "What better legacy to leave than a family that continues to love each other and want to be with each other decades after you have left this earth." I felt the ever present remnants of family love that remained from years gone by.

I'm also reminded of a second family reunion. This one is not yearly but weekly. It's the reunion we have with our brothers and sisters in Christ as we gather together with Him on Sunday mornings. It's a time of joy and love provided by the our most great and wonderful Patriarch. The one who loves us and takes care of our every need. I'm reminded of the church in Acts 2. "All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved." It is there too in this setting that you will feel the presence of the love , the love of our Lord and Savior and our God, our Patriarch.

Memories and Mementos

Sitting on my office desk is a glass case with a football from the 1965 AA State Game inside. Resting on the case is a book entitled "The Best High School Football in the Country". One step higher lying on the book is a baseball glove from my little league years some 50 years ago. Move down to the desktop and you'll find a homemade paperweight with a piece of fool's gold neatly encased within its clear acrylic shell, a memory from a trip to Apache Junction, Arizona many decades ago. On the other side of the room sitting quietly on a table is a piece of the original deck of the USS North Carolina, the ship my father served on during WWII and behind it a maroon songbook from the same place and era. Turn to the right and you'll see a pink camera, one of two that were given to my brother and me as we prepared to take a family trip to the Alamo and Corpus Christi. Further right you'll see on a shelf a set of baskets that belonged to my Granny Minton.

If you come to my house you'll find hanging on a hat rack a nice Stetson hat worn by my Uncle Carl. If you'll ask I'll show you the Civil War writings of my Great-Great Grandpa Hazilip and you'll even see the shaving mug used by my PaPa Tom or the porcelain cow from my MaMaw.
On a glass shelf by the kitchen is my first cup from... well we won't go there. In the bedroom is a chair that belonged to Kathy's Granny Brew and in the den a clock left to us by her mother.

In my closet you'll find a box filled with items of days long gone past. There are letters from well wishers when I broke my neck playing football years ago. Among the other items are chin straps from Junior High and High School football days, my high school diploma and a book containing cards with my high school classmates names printed on them. Shuffle through it and you'll find a pair of cuff links (a gift from a friend), a small trophy with a plastic football that Kathy gave me while we were dating, a high school pennant and my baby blanket. Then there are the boxes of photos of our boys, family and friends, hundreds of them.

There are other items too numerous to list, but they are all reminders of good memories that have embraced me in the past. As I look at each one it reminds me of the many friends and loved ones who have been a part of molding my life. There is little or no monetary value to any of the things I've mentioned, only sentimental value. If you picked it up at a garage sale you would probably set it down and say "I wouldn't even pay a nickel for that". To me, however, they are priceless. Memories are something on which you can never put a value. They are great treasures to the one who holds them dear and close to their hearts.

Oh, by the way there is another reminder I have. I have 30 or so of them in different colors, shapes and sizes. Some of them are red, some brown, a couple are white and several black. Three or four of them are so big they are bulky to carry and one is small enough to carry in my shirt pocket. They are at the office and at home and I even carry one on my cell phone. It's God's Word. A reminder of whose I am and how much He loves me.