I’ve posted previously about being a bit “Anti-Santa”, but here’s a post where I get all rebellious against my own stated preferences. I’m just a walking dichotomy. I’m okay with that.
My Tall, Dark, and Slightly Neanderthal Husbad was, as I’ve mentioned, raised by a wonderful woman who falls squarely in the Santa Camp. Consequently, though he fully supports my Christ In Christmas stance, he also has a huge tender spot for the Jolly Old Elf. I think he sees in Santa the embodiment of a servant of Christ, someone to remind us of the gifts of God, and the wonder of miracles.
Sure, Santa has been taken over by the Holiday Industrial Complex to a large extent, but that doesn’t mean we have to settle for it. He’s been waiting a long time for his beard to turn from red to white, in order to make a convincing St Nick and go forth to delight the masses.
This year, it’s happening.
Fourteen years into marriage with me, all the formerly russet bits of his beard have gone white. I claim no responsibility for that. The non-white bits are getting quite peppery. His sideburns are fully silver, and his mustache is at 99%.
He has, as a genetic inheritance, gorgeous sparkly blue eyes, and high cheekbones that get rosy in the cold. (One look at him, and you know that the area of Scotland his ancestors occupied was at some point overrun by some tall, lusty Vikings.)
Add to all this a happy little bit of fortuosity: my good friend’s church is sending “Santa” around to all the houses in the area with a small bag of goodies and an invitation to attend Christmas Sunday services. She’s helping with the planning, and immediately thought of my husband.
When she mentioned it to him, I saw the spark in his eyes.
I’m a complete sucker for that spark.
I love that spark so much that I am spending the next week on his first Father Christmas ensemble. It involves attaching silky curly fleece to rayon velvet, and drafting an ankle-length coat to fit his Tall, Dark, and Slightly Neanderthal frame. There are hooks to be thread-covered, and double sleeves to fit properly. There are black overboots to make glossy, and a silk sash to fringe. There’s a long, pointy, “fur” edged cap to make, and jingle bells to add, not to mention the berries and holly that need to be wired to his hiking crosier. And, did I mention all the sewing on rayon velvet?
I’m trying not to whine about that part.
I’m that in love with the spark.