For many reasons, since I was a child, I lost the Christmas spirit; I stopped believing in all those things about Christmas even though I always empathize with the festivities and the values that are transmitted during these dates. Now that I am a father I try that my children grow up in the Christmas spirit and do not lose that faith that I lost.
A few days before Christmas they still had not written their letters to Santa, I called them to encourage them to do it and without much desire they took paper and pencil but my little Clara also brought them for me, with her smiling face and intelligent eyes she told me that if I also wrote to Santa they would know that he was real. Impossible to object to such reasoning and we set out to write our letters. Colors, silver frosting and beautiful envelopes decorated with Christmas motifs were used to finish our task.
I took my coat, threw the letters in one of the pockets to do the needlework to go to the post office to deliver them, my oldest son went for his coat and hung on my arm saying he would accompany me to make sure everything would be all right. I saw some mischief in his eyes and had to laugh and get ready to make the 20 minute drive to the post office with my two little ones.
On the way, while the radio played Christmas songs, they asked me a thousand questions. Is it true that Santa visits every house? How does he do it in just a few hours? Does he have time to read so many letters? Why does he only like milk and cookies? I tried to answer as best I could while looking at their faces in the rear view mirror. I told them; besides Santa doesn't only drink milk, he also drinks a good coffee to stay awake and keep the cold away. They looked at me skeptically and then laughed. What's more, I continued; on Christmas night I will make coffee for Santa, you will see that he drinks it too. More laughter was the response from my children.
That Christmas night, early in the morning, I arranged in the living room everything that tradition dictates; milk, cookies and.... I did prepare a strong cup of coffee. Just as I was about to place the cup on the coffee table, the doorbell rang. It seemed strange to me at that hour, the children were already asleep and I wasn't expecting a visitor.
I cautiously looked out the window and saw an older man ringing the doorbell and then rubbing his arms as a sign of being very cold. I hurried to open the door and it was a well-dressed gentleman whose car had crashed right in front of our house. He told me, after politely greeting me and apologizing for the intrusion that he was waiting for a tow truck and that he just needed shelter for a few minutes and maybe a hot drink. Of course I let him in right away and settled him into one of the lounge chairs.
I remembered the coffee I had prepared for "Santa" and went to get a cup for the unexpected visitor, his eyes sparkled when he noticed it was coffee and he took the cup while he asked me how my son and daughter were doing. I immediately missed the question, how did this gentleman know that I have a son and a daughter; without giving me time to react he explained that when he saw the presents under the tree and how they were wrapped he had deduced it. I must confess that at that point I was a little worried but my fear turned into surprise when I saw how this gentleman was transmuting with each sip of coffee. His ochre-colored jacket was turning red, his hair and beard were turning gray, and his build was becoming more robust. I fell into the armchair, right in front of him, totally dumbfounded until a jojojo brought me out of my trance.
I couldn't believe it. It was Santa, right there on my couch. He reassured me that he had made a special stop to talk to me and we did so for hours. I looked like a child, I missed sitting on his lap, now that I remember it makes me laugh but at that moment I was the most vulnerable of human beings. He apologized for letting me think he didn't exist and also congratulated me for instilling Christmas values in my children despite my doubts.
I will never forget his words "son, to believe in something when everything points towards it is very easy, but to really believe, true faith is born from doubt, when everything seems wrong and you stand firm believing that there will be a solution for things, that is believing. And you have always believed in spite of everything."
That was the last thing he said as he drained his milk and cookies. He left, riding the sound of bells while on the little table in the living room he left my letter:
"Dear Santa, I don't know how to say this. Even though I don't believe in you anymore, I want my children to grow up thinking you are real, to not have my doubts and to always be filled with the spirit of Christmas. I strongly hope so. Thank you and Merry Christmas."
original content from 
