I’m a skeptic by nature, but here I am, in my 40s, ready to confess something: I believe in Santa.
Not the jolly man in a red suit who slides down chimneys (although I’ll defend his honor, too). No, I believe in the spirit of Santa—the magic that appears when you least expect it, in the most improbable of places, sometimes secondhand and sometimes with the tags still on.
A Childhood of Hit-or-Miss Christmases
Growing up, Christmas was a gamble. I was a child in a house filled with chaos—poverty, addiction, and narcissism swirling around like a snowstorm you couldn’t see your way out of. Heat and food weren’t always guaranteed, and my family’s addresses were as fleeting as a reindeer’s hoofprints. Sometimes, we lived in motels; other times, we lived on the kindness of others.
But amidst that uncertainty, Christmas brought magic. A secondhand coat might appear under the tree just as the temperatures dropped. Or a toy, brand new and trendy, would land in my hands, though I knew it was a gift from a stranger with a generous heart. My grandmother and aunts often played Santa’s helpers, slipping cash into the season to make sure something, anything, made its way to me. But many of the best gifts—the books, the toys that lit up my world—came from strangers.
Toys for Tots. Operation Giving Tree. The Kiwanis Club.
Those names were as much a part of my childhood Christmas story as Rudolph or Frosty. They weren’t just organizations; they were proof that magic existed, even when life felt impossibly hard.
Creating Our Own Christmas Magic
Fast forward to adulthood, and the memory of those gifts doesn’t fade. It fuels me. Twenty years ago, my husband Jason and I decided to pay it forward. We filled a cart for Toys for Tots, not realizing it was the beginning of a tradition that would grow as big as our family.
The first year, it was one cart. The next, it was two. By the third year, Jason discovered Dinosaur Train in the toy aisle and declared, “This is GENIUS!” The way his face lit up reminded me of a little boy seeing Santa for the first time, and I fell in love with him all over again.
Every year, we pack that cart with toys that speak to us. There are the toys we loved as kids, like Nerf guns and doll sets with all the accessories. There are the toys I always wanted but never got. And then there are the new ones—like the giant bin of dinosaurs that somehow makes it into the cart every year because, let’s be honest, who doesn’t love dinosaurs?
One year, the cashier at Toys R Us, probably not much younger than us, said wistfully, “Your kids are so lucky. I wish you were my mom and dad.” Jason and I cracked up, realizing that while we didn’t have any kids at the time, we were definitely kids at heart.
The truth is, I don’t do this just for Toys for Tots. I do it for me, too. This tradition is as much a part of my healing as it is about giving back. And yes, I usually cry at some point during the shopping trip—because that’s what happens when you see the full circle of magic.
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Teaching My Kids to Be Santa’s Helpers
Now that we have our own children, we’ve added a new layer to our tradition. Each year, our kids pick out a toy for a child their age. Why? Because Santa needs help.
Our mission ends at the mall, where a Toys for Tots box stands waiting. My kids hand their chosen toy to Santa—directly to the man in the red suit, but also to the spirit of him, alive in that act of giving. It doesn’t matter if the gift is from the dollar store or a gently loved toy from their own collection. The magic is the same.
In our house, we’ve made it clear: Santa is real. But he doesn’t work alone. He enlists families like ours, and organizations like Toys for Tots, to bring joy to children who need it most.
The magic is amplified when we talk about the gifts we’ve given. “Santa’s going to deliver this to a kid just like you,” we tell them. And their faces light up with the realization that they’ve been part of something bigger than themselves.
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A Tradition for Every Family
I want to take a moment to acknowledge something important: filling carts with toys isn’t practical for many families, and I recognize the privilege and luck that allow me to do it. But the magic of giving doesn’t have to come with a big price tag—it’s about the gesture, the heart, and the connection it creates.
There are so many ways to start a tradition like this, no matter your budget. A simple toy from the dollar store can spark the same joy. Choosing a gently loved toy from your own collection can teach kids the value of sharing what they have. You could even create something together—a handmade gift like a card, a craft, or a sweet treat to give to someone in need.
The beauty of helping Santa is that it’s the act of giving itself that matters. Whether it’s big or small, new or old, the magic is real.
The Magic That Lasts
I’ll never forget the year I got a globe I didn’t ask for or the year I got a book I desperately wanted. I’ll also never know if it was my grandmother, Toys for Tots, or some anonymous stranger who helped Santa that year. But does it matter?
What matters is that it was Santa. And that magic, that feeling of being seen and cared for, still lives in me today.
When my own children inevitably ask if Santa is real, I’ll tell them, “Yes. He’s as real as the magic you make when you help someone else.”
Because I believe in Santa. I believe in the Santa inside us all, the one who never stops spreading joy. And as long as I can, I’ll help Santa grow in their hearts so that the magic never fades.
This tradition isn’t just about Christmas; it’s about hope, healing, and the beautiful reminder that even when life is hard, there’s magic to be found—and made.
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