mindful monday : magic comes through ordinary people
I watched Tessie experience magic on Saturday.
The Asheville Holiday Parade is a tradition, especially since Emma started marching in it a few years ago with the Asheville High School band. This year was her last such parade, now as senior section leader to the awesome sousaphone section. And so it was a special moment, watching her stop right in front of us to play for a few minutes before marching on. I stifled the urge to sob uncontrollably and videotaped it instead. Of course the video is captive on my cellphone until the planet tilts on its axis and I figure out how to get it off, but I can watch it in small format until then.
Tess, of course, waited anxiously for the Big Man in Red to bring up the rear of the parade. The kids around us (of all ages) were all atwitter at the very mention that he had rounded the last bend before our staked out position near Pritchard Park.
Suddenly there he was, waving in our general direction.
She was excited beyond speech.
AND THEN HE SPOKE. "I'll be back to this park right after the parade to meet boys and girls," his deep voice said over a hand-held microphone no doubt handed to him by an elf. "I'll see you soon, boys and girls!"
Tessie's eyes were WIDE when she turned back to me. "THAT WAS THE REAL SANTA!" she exclaimed with wonder. "THE REAL ONE! AND THAT WAS *HIS* VOICE!"
Imagine–if you are a believer–that you have just seen God incarnate and he HAS JUST TALKED TO YOU OVER A HAND-HELD MICROPHONE FROM THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET IN THE BROAD DAYLIGHT.
She pulled my hand to the park where we stood in line. When the clown named Lottie Dottie excitedly proclaimed that Santa was arriving in a police car (we could see the blue lights flashing), Tess became very serious and pulled me down to her height. "I can't do it," she said. "I'm too scared."
"Oh honey," I started, "you…"
She interrupted me. "I can't. Here's what I want for Christmas and you'll have to tell him…" She listed three things in an urgent whisper and announced that she had to go sit on the steps and watch Santa but that she couldn't be in line or sit on his lap.
I called her back. "How about sitting on my lap beside Santa?" I asked. She hesitated, like a squirrel in front of headlights, and then nodded a fierce yes, then nervously retreated.
Neither Emma nor Tess have ever made it to Santa's lap, both terrified by the prospect.
And so I stood in line while Tess and Mr Brilliant watched Santa interact with other children. I saw Santa tell one parent in no uncertain terms to remove the lollipop from their child's hands before they came toward him. One parent reached down to take the small gift Santa was offering their young boy and Santa pulled the toy away, insisting on handing the toy to the youngster himself.
I feared for Tessie, truthfully. Santa didn't look like he was having a great Santa day, if you know what I mean.
And then, suddenly, it was our time. John moved Tessie toward me as I walked toward The Man in Red. He disregarded me, but reached out his arm for Tess. "She's scared," I whispered, as if I needed to tell him that. "Perhaps she can sit on my lap beside you," I offered.
He looked straight into Tessie's eyes. "I think you'll be fine on my lap," he said quietly to her. And so she was. She sat, arms straight before her, terrified and ecstatic simultaneously. He spoke quietly to her, asking about school and about her pets.
He took his time with her. And then she leaned in toward him and they talked.
When she got off his lap, he gently held her collar on both sides and moved her to right in front of him. He leaned down to face her, eyeball to eyeball. "This is a big moment, Tessie," he said. "Sitting here with me, why it's a big step for you in growing up," he said, quietly. "You're growing up now. I will always remember that you did this." And then he pulled her in for a hug.
He let go of her collar and handed her a red Teletubbie in a tiny McDonald's Happy Meal Bag. She has held tight to it ever since.
He didn't talk to her about being good for Santa or that he would be watching her to see if she's bad or good. He didn't chastise her for being scared. He didn't talk over her head or behind her back to me. He talked straight to her about growing up.
It got me to thinking about magic.
Where does real magic come from? You must read what one mother wrote about this, in a letter to her son who had figured out that the Tooth Fairy wasn't "real." It is one of the most beautiful things I've read in a long, long while. While we believe you either believe or don't believe, here's one mother who believes there is a magical, third way.
Here's an excerpt from that post by Liz Emmett-Mattox, a letter she wrote her son:
"Dear AJ,
Today you crossed one of the many bridges on the journey from the world of the child to the world of the adult. You have found out that magic sometimes comes through ordinary people.
This is an important discovery, but please do not think that you have learned all there is about magic. Crossing this bridge means that you are ready to begin to apprentice a lifelong study of the true nature of magic.
What you need to know now is that some people who cross this bridge think that magic doesn’t exist at all. They become skeptical. This is a danger you will have to watch out for.
The second thing to know is that you can now make magic. Learning to do this will give you and those around you great joy.
Now that you have crossed this bridge, you may have to look a bit harder to find the magic in the world, but know this: those who don’t believe in magic will never find it, while those who look and expect to see magic will find it everywhere."
Go here to read the whole post."…you can now make magic. Learning to do this will give you and those around you great joy."
"Those who look and expect to see magic will find it everywhere."
Wow. That, my friends, is real magic.
Let magic flow through you, my (extra)ordinary friends.
My thanks to Santa. And to Liz Emmett-Mattox for that beautiful post about magic.
Magic sometimes comes through ordinary people.
Be ordinary. Be magic.
