Stockings, Secrets, and the Night I Grew Up

Disclaimer: If you still believe in Santa Claus, this blog is not for you. Come back later. 🎄

Christmas was my favorite holiday (and still is) long before I understood what nostalgia was. The lights felt brighter than ordinary days. The carols drifting through the house and playing softly on the radio made everything feel enchanted. Even the air seemed to carry promise. Gifts from friends and family were the bonus, the visible proof that love had taken physical form under a tree.

Like most children, I believed in Santa Claus without hesitation. Fully. Fiercely. I believed in a world where someone saw everything, remembered everything, and showed up generously in the middle of the night without needing credit. I believed because believing made life feel kind.

I was twelve the last year Santa filled my stocking. I did not know it yet.

The Midnight Moment That Changed Everything

That Christmas Eve, curiosity got the better of me. I pretended to fall asleep, then slipped out of bed just before midnight. I wanted to see Santa in motion. I wanted confirmation that wonder had weight. Instead, I watched my oldest sister quietly filling my stocking, along with my niece’s and nephew’s.

No sleigh.

No boots.

No magic man.

Just adults.

In that moment, something shifted. The disappointment came first, sharp and undeniable. But right behind it was understanding. Santa had never been the point. Love was. Effort was. People choosing generosity again and again, even when no one was watching. It reminded me years later of Ecclesiastes 3:1, which says there is a time for everything, even a time for believing and a time for seeing clearly.

I went back to bed different. Older. Less enchanted, maybe, but closer to the truth.

When Magic Moves Into Human Hands

That night marked the beginning of a quieter kind of wonder. One that did not rely on fantasy but on presence. I realized the magic had never disappeared. It had simply moved into human hands.

G.K. Chesterton once wrote, “The true object of all human life is play,” and that night, play gave way to responsibility. Innocence shifted into gratitude. The joy of receiving slowly made room for the meaning of giving.

Faith would later deepen that realization. James 1:17 reminds us that every good and perfect gift comes from above, often delivered through ordinary people willing to show up. That Christmas, my sister became the messenger.

Over time, I learned that wonder does not die when Santa does. It matures. It learns how to give instead of receive. Jesus said in Acts 20:35 that it is more blessed to give than to receive, and somehow, that lesson began with a stocking and a hallway light.

As Madeleine L’Engle once observed, “The great thing about getting older is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been.” I still carry that twelve-year-old girl with me. She just stands closer to the adults now.

Soul Insights

1. Disillusionment is not betrayal, it is transition.

Losing a belief does not mean you were foolish for holding it. It means it served you for a season. Childhood faith prepares the heart for deeper truths later. What feels like loss is often a doorway into understanding.

2. Magic rarely disappears, it relocates.

What we once attributed to fantasy often turns out to be human devotion. Someone stays up late. Someone plans ahead. Someone gives without applause. That is not less meaningful, it is more.

3. Growing up often begins with seeing effort.

Adulthood is not marked by age but by awareness. The moment you notice who is carrying the load, you have stepped into maturity. Gratitude grows when illusion falls away.

4. Faith deepens when symbols change.

Childhood faith leans on stories. Adult faith leans on trust. The message stays the same even when the packaging changes. Love still shows up, just wearing different clothes.

5. You do not lose wonder when you become the giver.

You gain perspective. Joy shifts from receiving to creating moments for others. The heart stretches, and that stretch is holy work, whether we call it faith or simply love in motion.

Final Thoughts

That Christmas Eve did not ruin Christmas for me. It refined it. I stopped waiting for magic and started noticing devotion. I stopped looking up the chimney and started looking at the people around the tree.

As poet David Whyte wrote, “The price of our vitality is the sum of all our fears.” Letting go of Santa felt like a small fear, but it taught me how to let go with grace. And that skill has carried me much farther than a sleigh ever could.

If you have ever discovered that something you believed was different than you imagined, I hope you found what I did. Not loss, but depth. Not disappointment, but clarity.

Your Turn

Take a moment this season to notice who is doing the unseen work around you. Then thank them.

Better yet, become one of them.

By the way…

Happy holidays and while you’re here, I’d love for you to explore my book 17 Syllables of Me and visit my website, SoulPath Insights.

Thank you for taking the time to read! 🤗

Soul Path Insights