The boys were sitting in the warm bubbles of the bath. Eli adds some bubbles to his chin and says, "I don't believe in Rudolph, it is a myth. But I do believe in Santa."
Uh, um, well... ill prepared for this moment.
"What do you mean by myth?" I ask him.
He tells me how there is no way Rudolph could really exist and that people just made him up and created stories.
We make reindeer food in our house and throw it out on Christmas Eve. We leave out a carrot and an apple for Rudolph. If there is one thing I have never stopped believing in, it is Rudolph. And his magic.
Rudolph is like so many of us, whose gift is misunderstood and even teased until it becomes a blessing to others. Rudolph is joy - regardless of religion, the thought of a reindeer flying in the sky with a shiny red nose - yes joy. The fact that he is hooked up to a sleigh full of toys, icing on the cake!
So I am on a mission to share my belief with Eli. To show him that the magic of this world exists in such special places inside of us. Those things that we cannot see or hear but must dig deep inside our hearts for, that tingle of excitement of what could be. Magic.
I still lie in my cozy bed on Christmas Eve, snuggled up, giggling and trying to stay awake to hear the sound of Rudolph's feet hitting the roof. That myth doesn't stand a chance against me believing in Rudolph.
*** *** ***
What do you believe in? Where do you still carry magic in your heart?