I spent all day in our wine shop, and visitors attended each day of the month of December. Hoped to have a few minutes of calm to write the Christmas story this year as I have done in previous years. No idea, or inspiration on the subject, only small fragments that did not lead to anything consistent. Simply gave up.
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talked with my family on skype when it was over Christmas Eve dinner, wanting to be there with them. We gathered at home with my in-laws and Christmas Eve Venezuelan flavor soot hallacas and pork. The children were the protagonists to accept grade the adult menu and play a long time until the point where my youngest son broke my nose because I am the bad guy in his history of Indiana Jones. From my broken nose and cartilage of the nose became more game for the alleged pain that I caused the accident. Not really painful, just the bruise is outrageous.
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A year ago I had my parents in Panama, after celebrating the "caga tió" Christmas (the trunk that shit gifts on Christmas Eve after feeding during December) and the three kings, my mother I said it was probably the last Christmas that children, especially my oldest daughter, disfrurarÃan the inexplicable magic of these phenomena because they were in the age of disbelief.
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took this warning seriously. 2010 passed without hassle or questions, arrived in December and continue until this evening liturgy. My mother told me all year that if my daughter was the key question: "Dad, there are the Magi?" Could not lie, I had to tell him the most painful of truths to which a child may face who believes in magical worlds, "not the daughter, are the parents who bring gifts" or something like that. It happened to me at the age of my daughter and when I asked the question my mother nodded and asked me to keep the secret for my younger brother could maintain their status of innocence during extra time.
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When my mother told me the truth that I suspected I felt something very sacred died forever in my heart. Could ensure that this was actually the border between childhood and adulthood. Until then felt God as unreachable and caring adult whose child was a boy like me with whom she had a secret friendship. The kings, Melchior, Gaspar and Baltasar were somehow irrefutable proof of those bonds of faith and imagination.
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There was nothing more sublime than the dawn of a January 6 before 8 years and see the living room full of presents for my family and donated by those magical beings. In my eyes was a drunk feeling, gratitude, wholeness, bliss ... catharsis of generosity in that faith was magical, inexplicable victory, a divine breath that triumphed by a single night in a daily environment. The night of kings and his awakening was for me the proof that miracles were possible and that God really was close to tangile. All that ended in one afternoon, when the asks my mother, and tender loving care, but with a compassionate tone confirmed my fears: "We are the parents'
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The desire to safeguard the information for my little brother and the feeling of victory of intelligence over imagination were initially complacent but in the depths I felt the first breath of my life, a pain so deep loss , as that can be felt by a close relative: Everything that had satisfied myself year after year: the arrival of the Magi to my city, full of present and accompanied by a huge entourage of collaborators, the dawn with the rest of the way through the home of kings and Canellos, all I saw was a lie, a great invention, a mounting justified "greatest" to increase the faith of the young by magic.
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appalling truth that in fact there was only resignation and dissimulation to join a new club, adult and being part of the world's most beautiful sham. That change was gradual and sides more than once wanted to believe that the problem was that the wise men were so old men who helped parents in the work of sharing toys.
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Tonight I fell to my receiving the question. In bed, almost asleep, my daughter said, "Daddy I have a question." What is your question, I said, knowing it was linked to the topic. Who put the gifts in the "shit bloke" in Santa Claus or the Magi?. My daughter directly attacked from 3 sides magical.
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initially responded on the weakest of the characters, Santa Claus, because as Catalans have never held and the children watch American movies with characters thousand false disguise. I told him that the "saint" were reminiscent of a real person born in a country near Barcelona and dedicated his life to giving gifts to children and had been one so good that people still remembered him, but added that the saint, San Nicolas, who delivered toys was very different from what we saw in the movies and the business centos, was not someone with a fake beard and belly and was handing out candy jolly laugh at the entrance of the stores.
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In the case of "shit uncle", the Yule log that shit Catalan gifts for children, I wanted to remind him of a principle of life, respect for nature and the trees are held every day a miracle more important than the gifts that shit on Christmas Eve. With leaves that give us oxygen, life is possible since before humans. God created the trees to allow for life on this planet, first dinosaurs and then we enjoyed the great gift they offer us the trees. I asked my daughter to see the gifts of shit uncle as a symbol that we humans have to thank the trees that give us life with their leaves and that is really the great gift that we offer every day of the year.
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I confess, I could not reveal the cruel truth about the Magi from the East. They are so big important that I armed forces to extend the deadline for another year. I reminded him that they were the only ones who had seen the newborn Christ child, who had his poop smelled and heard their cries. They are so magicians who take more than 2000 years bringing joy to children because they love all children, rich and poor, because that was the end the big question from my daughter, if all children receive the same treatment of kings. That was his great concern and expressed his petition the painful truth that each crib offers a different future: Are we all equal in the eyes of the Magi?, I'd say, for God ....
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One more day of belief in these values \u200b\u200bis in my eyes the great gift this Christmas, it is for his training as a person and his way of understanding the world when you no longer have questions for me. Excuse the latter lie, my child, is only the fruit of the most beautiful gifts, love.
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Merry Christmas
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