A Visit from Sinterklaas

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One of the sweetest surprises of returning to the small town where I savored childhood is the gift of watching my own children experience some of the special traditions that I enjoyed as a little girl. Living in a community deeply committed to preserving its Holland heritage; we have the joy of celebrating not just American traditions, but Dutch ones as well.
 
 
 
 
 
 
As a child, I remember waiting anxiously for a sign that Christmas was on its way. Long before I could read a calendar or understand the essence of time, I knew that the yuletide season had begun when Sinterklaas came to town. Dressed in his regal red robes and accompanied by his miniature helper Zwarte Piet,  the Dutch Santa Clause arrived like clockwork when our Thanksgiving feast had been reduced to leftovers.
 
And delightfully, he still does.
 
While this Patron Saint of Children shares some similarities with America’s jolly St. Nick, the Dutch do-gooder has a style of his own. Rather than travel by sleigh, he arrives by boat. Instead of filling stockings hung by the mantle with care, Sinterklaas fills shoes placed carefully by the front door. And while Santa favors the speed and flight of reindeer, Sinterklaas prefers the gallantry of his white horse.
 
 Though mid-November traditionally marks the start of the Sinterklaas season in the Netherlands, and a merry parade (much grander than our small town version) on the last day of November highlights his arrival, the actual  feast day of Sinterklaas is December 6th. This is a time for exchanging gifts and enjoying family and friends. On the eve of Sinterklaas’ special day, Dutch tables are laden with traditional sweets and baked goods while Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet ride across the rooftops looking for and rewarding good children with small gifts and candies. Though sweets and treats are the ritual indulgence of the evening, Sinterklaas does not share his American counterpart’s affinity for sugar. Rather than placing cookies near the mantle to add to Santa’s jelly belly, Dutch children leave carrots and oats for Sinterklaas and his white horse in their wooden shoes by the door.
 
 
The following morning, gifts from Sinterklaas, many with hilarious poems attached, are opened and the poems read aloud. A day of feasting follows. And then nineteen days later, the birth of Christ is celebrated with more gala. I love how Sinterklass day allows Jesus to be the “star of the show” on December 25 without competing with a man in a red suit for the children’s affections.
 
 
My clan is well accustomed to the wooden-shoe-tradition on December 5, few could remember a November visit from the regal gift-giver. So on Saturday morning, we joined the throng of youngsters waiting anxiously in the town square. Soon, a big blue boat rolled up the street, (yes, rolled… we aren’t exactly flanked by water in the Midwest like our ancestors in Holland).
 
Joshua tugged my coat sleeve. “Is that really him?” he whispered, reverently, his eyes never leaving the helm of the boat where a taller and more slender version of Santa stood steering the giant wooden vessel. with the long white beard stood tall and dignified.
 
“Yes,” I assured my youngest son, “That’s Sinterklaas.” Little did Josh know he would have an intimate encounter with our red-robed guest before the morning was done.
 
We watched Sinterklaas exit his boat, preceded by a joyous brass band bugling Christmas tunes and a small clan of children dressed as packages and other holiday characters. Our town burgemeister was on hand to relay  holiday greetings to our benevolent visitor, and the mayor was present to declare November 27 as the official Sinterklaas day in our small town. Even our newly-elected town ambassadors, the Tulip Queen and her court, were present to welcome the white-bearded gift giver and his jovial helpmate.
When  the “official proclamations” were finished, Sinterklaas addressed the “good boys and girls” of our community. He thanked the children who had donned holiday costumes and joined him in the parade and he wished all the moms and dads a peace-filled Christmas season.
 
He was about to return to his boat when our jolly guest stopped the procession and announced, “I have the feeling that there is one naughty child in this crowd.” The children’s chatter hushed. The band stopped playing. The mayor covered his grin. Sinterklaas bid Zwie Piet to accompany him into the crowd and he peered into the children’s eyes as he passed.
 
Suddenly, he stopped right in front of Joshua.  His green eyes grew huge as he stared at the bearded figure.
 “This is the boy!” Sinterklaas boomed.   “Will you come with me?”
Spell struck and petrified, Joshua followed. “We need to teach naughty children a lesson,” Sinterklaas explained, “So I’ll put you in my sack.”
 
Zwie Piet helped Josh step into the burlap bag and just as the sides of the sack were being lifted to hide my dear little boy, Sinterklaas hollered, “STOP! I just got word that we are wrong. There are NO naughty boys and girls in this town!”

The crowd exhaled a collective sigh and the children began to applaud. With a gentle swoop of his arm, Sinterklaas lifted Joshua out of the sack and bent down to meet  my three-year-old’s gaze. “I’m sorry, son. We were wrong. Will you forgive me?”

Josh’s mouth dropped open, and he nodded slowly and certainly as he held the hand of the legendary Patron Saint of Children.

With that, the brass band began tooting merry tunes once again and the parade procession followed the happy horns back down the street. Before Sinterklaas stepped into his boat, he stopped along the curbside where we stood and he tenderly took Joshua’s hand once more. “Thank you, Joshua,” Sinterklaas whispered. “I know you’re really a very good boy.  I’ll be visiting your house soon. You’ll put your shoe out for me, right?”

Once again Josh nodded without any noise and then watched until the blue boat disappeared from sight.

We laughed all day about Joshua’s “bag experience.” But as I tucked my brown-haired boy into bed that night, he asked quietly, “Mom? Am I REALLY a naughty boy?” 

“Well, Josh,” I replied. “Without Jesus we are ALL naughty.”

Joshua thought for a moment, “Even you?”

“Oh, my, buddy,” I said, “Especially me.”

 
I kissed my contemplative son good-night and then reminded him, “Do you know why I love having Jesus as my friend and Savior?”

“Why?” a sleepy voice replied. 

 
“Because as soon as He climbed into my heart, I got to climb out of that naughty bag!”
 

Joshua giggled and patted my hand. “Yeah.. that’s why I like Jesus EVEN MORE than Sinterklaas... but I’ll still put my shoes by the door!”

The Overflow:  “I bring you good news that will bring great joy to all people. The Savior-yes, the Messiah, the Lord- has been born today in Bethlehem, the city of David!” -Luke 2:10-11

 
 
Alicia

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