In my mind’s eye, there’s a room full of beautifully wrapped boxes. Inside each box is one reason I believe in miracles. This week, the week before Christmas Day, I’m unwrapping one box at a time. The reasons included already have been: presence, innocence, strangers, writing, and nature.

Christmas, 1982

Dear Santa:

I just turned two! I saw these big pink and purple keys. Can I have those, and maybe some pots and pans too? I like putting water in them! Baby dolls are fun to play with too, can I have a new one? I’m sorry I cried when I sat on your lap: you’re really big!

Christmas, 1985

Dear Santa,

We live in Canada right now. They put mustard on French Fries here–and it’s good! The big waterfall really scared me. Do you still come to Canada? I think you do because I’m going to see you at the mall tomorrow. I’ve changed my list from the one I sent you before; I hope that’s okay. I wrote a story, I think you’d like it because it’s about a girl who tries to find the best gift for her mama. There’s this writing table – it has a chalkboard on one side and white on the other side. It opens up too! And I can drive now; I saw this black car that’s just my size. Could I have that, too? It would let me go vroom vroom. I would love that. Oh, and there’s this doll in the store that kind of looks like me. I think she’s my biggest wish. Your suit looks soft.

Christmas, 1989

Dear Santa, 

We’ve moved to a new school this year. It’s pretty good. I’m glad you’re magic. Kids don’t believe you’re real, but I think you are. It’s fun thinking about your reindeers. Are you kind of like Jesus’s helper? I don’t know if I’ve been good this year or not. There’s a lot of things I can’t say. Do you think you could bring me a diary this year? There’s this doll that looks like a real boy: he’s got red hair, and guess what? He TELLS STORIES. If you’re real, could I have him? And there’s a few Baby-Sitter Club books I don’t have; if you’re able to bring those, that would be great. One of them is about Claudia: she’s my favorite. If you’re not real, that’s okay, maybe I’ll give this letter to Mama just in case. 

Christmas, 1992

Dear Santa,

I need Christmas this year, Santa, but not because I need things. I don’t know if I even like getting a bunch of things. I do like the magic, though. The wrapping paper is so pretty, and the lights everywhere, and people are not mad at each other. I was named Student of the Month in school this year, but I don’t know if that counts as being good or not. This boy, Aaron, asked me to be his girlfriend! This year, I wish I could have a locket, the kind you open and put pictures inside of. That way I can’t forget things. Those wooden stamps are really fun, too — I like the Pooh ones. The thing I really want, though, is a typewriter — please? Most of all, I wish we could stay in Nashville next year. If you can’t bring any of that, though, it’s okay. Mostly, I just wish there was no fighting, and Daddy would stay gone. I think God is helping with those.

Christmas, 1995

Dear Santa,

High school is really hard. Really, really hard. These girls wadded up my story and threw it in the trash. This year, I’ve really started listening to 98 WSIX. I love Hoss Burns; he’s the best DJ. Gerry House is okay, too, sometimes he’s funny. I sold all my Baby-Sitters Club books to go to Fan Fair this year, but I was thinking maybe I could have some CDs this year? There’s this pink ice ring that’s so pretty, could you bring that? There’s also a beautiful doll: she has this fancy dress on, and she’s blowing a bubble. The bubble is in her hand. I would love her! I also saw these really nice pens that you can have engraved with your name on them. Could I have one of those? 

Christmas, 1996

Dear Santa,

I don’t want anything this year (unless you can get me a car, that would be awesome), because he’s gone. For sure, and he’s gone for seven years. I don’t need anything this year.

Christmas, 1998

Dear Santa,

We moved to Memphis at the break. It was the saddest thing for me to leave Nashville and McGavock. You would have thought it so funny because I took the baby doll you got me last year, the one that looks like a real baby, to Stackhouse’s class. Could I have some new clothes? There’s some really pretty stationary that you can have printed with your name on it. I’d love that to write my letters on, if you can bring some. Tanya Tucker’s got a book out; her autobiography. It came out last year, but I haven’t gotten to read it. Could you bring that this year too?  Mostly, if you could just make me fit in, and know how to be normal, that would be my biggest wish.

Christmas, 2000

Dear Santa,

I graduated! And I started college two months ago. It’s nice. I met someone and he’s the best. For Christmas, spending time with him is what I want. Maybe dancing lessons? Mostly, I hope he likes me too. People have cell phones now; they flip open and look really cool. I’d like to ask for that this year, and some new books to read.

Christmas, 2003

Dear Santa,

The baby is coming soon; in the next two months. Can I have some baby clothes, and there’s this really beautiful crib; I’m worried about diapers, could you bring some of those too? I listen to her heartbeat every night with the fetal heart monitor. B-boom, b-boom. I want to teach her to believe in magic, to always believe in you. I don’t want anything for me this year, unless… can you tell me how to be a really good mama?

Christmas, 2007

Dear Santa,

Another baby girl! Coming very, very soon! I am so excited. Can you help by bringing some baby clothes, and a blanket? Can you help Breathe know that she’ll always be loved too? What about some diapers? I’ve been writing a lot; if you have one to give away, please can it come here? 

Christmas, 2011

Dear Santa,

Boy, oh boy, these last two years. I’ve learned so much, given the first speech, wrote the biggest book ever. But this year… Joe and I are over. I feel like I’ve failed the girls; I wanted to give them a dad. They are so full of life. Do you have trees in the North Pole that aren’t dead? The other day, I saw green leaves. I see them every day, but this time, the green was amazing. It was so vibrant. I bet you see the best sunsets, and sunrises, on your world trip every year. For Christmas this year, there’s this book where I can answers questions about my life and save it for the girls. I would like that, please. I want them to remember I love them. 

Christmas, 2016

Dear Santa,

I wish for the childlike trust. Who was the little girl who asked for baby dolls, pots and pans and lockets? Where did she go? 

Christmas, 2020

Dear Santa,

Can you even deliver things this year at all? Are you even allowed to leave the North Pole — is Rudolph wearing one of these masks? This year, all I want is connection. I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing the whole world wants right now. Other than that, can you please help me make Christmas wonderful for the girls? They need a little bit of your magic right now. 

Christmas, 2023

Dear Santa,

This Christmas, I’m writing a series about why I believe in miracles. One reason I believe in miracles is because of time. I mean, we grow as people. The little girl aching for stability now only craves time, and the place the doesn’t matter as much. The open wounds… they’ve scabbed. I’ve learned to do a lot: speak, trust, write, teach. Learning those things has helped me heal. Isn’t that the beauty of learning, of growing, of time? The chance to heal? The miracle of time is that we change…but which changes we accept and which ones we reject are up to us. Forty-three years later, I still believe in you. Some see time as the enemy; I see it as a gift, for, each year that passes brings us one step year closer to discovering the magic that makes us special. Next year, I hope to come see you at your home in Finland. My Christmas wish list is the same this year as it’s been for the last twenty years: if you could weave some magical moments of joy into the girls’ lives this year, that would be the best gift of all. Also, thank you for the joy you’ve woven into mine.