Day 2 of Advent, and I spent a large portion of it trying to unclog a toilet. I’m still trying. In fact, I am writing this because my arms need a break from plunging and because I am determined to defeat the toilet before the night ends, which may mean missing my midnight deadline on the second day of my journal-writing commitment, which is just not happening.

Last night as I read to Titus and Lydia from Ann Voskamp’s family devotional Unwrapping the Gift, I had the should-have-been-obvious revelation that this would be their first year to experience Advent. Lydia had been too young to understand the last few years of devotionals shared with “the originals” (as I fondly call the oldest four children), and we didn’t do any Advent devotionals that I can recall since the twins were born.

This realization came to me as I watched Titus play with the childproof nativity scene I had just unboxed. I saw him stacking the angels into a Babel-like tower and realized that he was fresh meat when it comes to Christmas—both an exciting and terrifying prospect.

Already, the dynamic duo had posed the Santa question unexpectedly a few days ago. I am not anti-Santa, though the originals still talk about the year we “killed Santa,” which actually just involved downsizing him to stocking-filler status so that the kids would actually know who took the time to select, buy, and wrap the gifts they received on Christmas Day.

I hadn’t really given much thought to what I wanted to teach Tess, Titus, and Lydia about Santa until they began their musings about our chimney and whether the reindeer could fit down it (another part of Christmas that needs a little clarification for them). Just as I told the originals that someone “secretly filled their stockings in honor of the generosity of Saint Nicholas,” I do want T² and Lydia to experience the fun of anticipating Santa on Christmas Eve—complete with the cookies and milk, stockings, sleigh tracking, sleeplessness and of course, peeking!

But more than that, I really want to teach them that Santa is not just a rotund, jolly fellow who lives in the North Pole and accomplishes impossible feats once a year but that he is present every day—all year. Santa is Mr. Bob who gives of his time, resources, and talent to be our “fixer.” Santa is Ms. Mary who teaches them to swim and plans fun adventures. Santa is our Starbucks barista-friends who serve their tall, iced, Decaf waters and add a little joy and sunshine to our day. Santa is every Bible study leader, children’s ministry volunteer, Special Olympics coach, and Trail Life leader who donates his or her time week after week after week. Santa is all of our care attendants and babysitters who serve the “least of these” with so much faithfulness and love. And Santa is Pastor Steve and Ms. Beth and Ms. Laura and Ms. Kelly and Ms. J.J. and Becky and Paul and Ruthie and Frank and Granma and Papa and Leia and Uncle Robert and many, many others who devoted countless hours of their time helping their mom put back the pieces of what she thought was a shattered life but is turning out to be a beautiful masterpiece–the kind of simple but glorious art God makes out of our mess-ups. Santa is all those people and more—the hands and feet of Christ loving His broken people through other broken people.

That’s what I really want them to know.

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever, you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'” (Matthew 25:40, ESV)