Santa Story


Folks from different countries and of different religious backgrounds, who immigrate to Canada, must find our obsession with "Santa Claus" to be confusing. They must also wonder what Santa Claus has to do with the birth of the baby Jesus.

This year, a Muslim lady I work with is sponsoring a family who have emigrated from Afghanistan. This will be their first winter in Canada and, therefore, their first view of how Canadian Christians celebrate Christmas. We decided, as a group, to collect the traditional Christmas basket of gifts for the family. I didn't want them to think, however, that our celebration of the birth of Christ was limited to the kinds expressions of commercialism that are seen in the malls and shops, so, I decided that, along with my gifts for the family, would be a small story of what I know of the legend of Santa Claus. Perhaps you and your family would enjoy it, too.

There are many, many versions and variations of the Santa legend. This is the one I have always liked best.

It is said that, in the late 1700's, in a Scandinavian country, lived a woodcarver and his wife. The man's name was Kris Kringle. Kris was renowned for his beautiful wood carvings and fine furniture that were handmade in his little shed behind his tiny home. A small herd of reindeer that they raised for food, grazed in a pen behind Kris' shed. He and his dear wife had a cozy, albeit meager, existence but, unfortunately, they had never been blessed with children. It was what their hearts longed for most, but was just not meant to be.

In those days there were crowded orphanages and poorhouses. The death rate from diseases such as tuberculosis and the plague were high and many of the poor children put into orphanages had not a soul left in the world to care about them. Kris and his wife were saddened by the plight of these poor unfortunate children, but were not well off themselves and did not have the means to do much to help.

Kris and his wife were very faithful to their religion and Christmas was a very blessed time for them. Kris' name itself was derived from the name of the Christ child. It saddened his heart to see children suffer and not know some joy in their lives.

Kris Kringle, as they were fairly poor, would try his best to use up any scraps of wood from his projects, so as not to waste anything. Some of the pieces were too small to make into anything useful for the home, but Kris would sit by the stove on long winter evenings and whittle away at these small pieces of wood. He would shape them into statues of animals found in the nearby woods or replicas of townsfolk. He had gathered quite a collection of these little figurines over the years and, one day, his wife came up with the brilliant idea of going out on Christmas Eve and giving these carvings to the poor children in the orphanage.

Now, Kris and his wife truly believed that it was not Christian to do good deeds for praise or glory, so they devised a plan where Kris would disguise himself in his old red hunting coat and pull the big hood forward so no one could see his face to recognize him. For many years, Kris would travel into town on Christmas Eve, his sleigh being pulled over the snow by reindeer from their small herd. The children came to love the visits of this generous stranger. It was one of the few small pleasures they had to look forward to in their bleak and lonely lives. Kris derived so much pleasure from these visits that he would thank God, every year, for giving him the strength and privilege of carrying out this special mission.

One year, when Kris was quite an old man, Christmas Eve Day dawned, but the sun could not be seen for the heavy snow clouds that had blown in over night. The wind had picked up into a howling rage and the snow was whipped around in swirling sheets that stung any exposed skin and limited visibility to almost zero. Kris and his wife worried all day about the storm and hoped that, as nighttime fell, the wind would die down. Just the opposite was to happen and, by evening, the storm had increased in intensity and the temperature had dropped to minus 30 degrees. Nevertheless, Kris was determined that the children would not be disappointed. He knew they would wait all night expecting him to come with their small gifts. His wife would not let him go alone into the night and bundled the two of them up against the cold night and took extra fur lap rugs to help provide some warmth and protection. Kris loaded the large sack of wooden toys onto the back of the sleigh and hitched up extra reindeer to his sleigh, as he knew the snow had drifted into deep banks along parts of his route.

Kris and his dear wife climbed aboard the sleigh and started out on their trek. To help keep them warm and to calm and encourage the animals, they began singing Christmas carols and favourite hymns. They had traveled for about two hours and should have been at the edge of town, but were not. They had become hopelessly disorientated and dreadfully lost. The poor reindeer traveled slower and slower, as the cold seeped into their flesh, and, finally, one by one, they froze to death in their tracks. Kris and his wife knew they would never find their way back home or into town. They were likely deep in the woods by now and had no way to find their way home without visual landmarks. They knew they would not make it to see the dawn of Christmas Day. The kindly pair huddled together as best they could, under the fur rugs, and prayed to God to thank Him for the life that they had been blessed with and for all of the little children in the world. At least they would die together.

The storm finally abated the next day and the townsfolk knew something must have gone dreadfully wrong for Kris not to have shown up at the orphanage on Christmas Eve. A group was sent out to the Kringle homestead and, when they found it empty, began to search the woods and surrounding area. There they found Kris and his wife, frozen to death in each other's arms, still huddled in the sleigh. Each wore such a peaceful, serene expression on their face; that the townsmen knew that had died with God's blessings upon them. The bag of toys was tearfully distributed at the orphanage, just as Kris would have wanted.

It is said that God granted sainthood to Kris Kringle, because of his kind and pious life. He became St. Nicholas and still looks after the wishes and prayers of small children.

All I know is that the townsfolk in Kris' village were astounded the next year after his death when a small wooden toy mysteriously appeared on the pillow of each orphan, as they slept on Christmas Eve. Some say another kind soul took up the tradition after Kris's death. Others believe the soul of Kris lived on as St. Nick and still tried to bring some small joy to the poor unfortunate orphans.

I believe that the true spirit of Christmas was demonstrated by this kind man and his wife. We give gifts to each other to represent the gifts the three Magi brought to the Christ child in the manager. If we could all only look into our hearts and give for the true pleasure of giving we would come to understand that it truly is not the size or cost of the gift that matters. It is the fact that you care enough to pick out a gift to give to someone else on Christ's birthday. Spread some joy this year just for the pleasure it will bring others.

May the peace and joy of the Christmas season be with all of you throughout the year, regardless of your race or religious affiliation.

© Newfie June




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