Day 22: Christmas Letter 

Hey people

I got this after Christmas last year even though it had been sent earlier. Somehow I missed it. Cos I got it January this year. Anyhow I really liked it and decided to use it this year instead.

Thank you my dear troublesome Disemi.

Enjoy people. I’m sure she’s writing in the behalf of so many of us.

Dear Jesus,
I have never written to you before but I thought I would give it a try, seeing as santa never replies my mails or grants my wishes.

so after years of talking to you , this year I decided to write You instead.

I have been writing to santa for twenty something odd years and I never got a reply or sadly any granted wish. At first I thought he didn’t get my letters and maybe the mail man didn’t post them on time, so I sent them earlier in october so they could get to him but still nothing, but I kept at it out of habit I guess and well silence is all I ever got.

I first heard about santa in 1994, not from mummy though she didnt have all that time to talk about him and neither did daddy or my big sisters, maybe because they were all much older and didnt need him but no one talked about santa until I saw the movie “The santa clause” by Tim Allen and I just fell in love with santa and the whole idea.

I knew it was a movie but I also thought he was well portrayed. so after bugging my father, he finally told me about the north pole and said Nigerians called him father Christmas .

Christmas at mine isn’t the usual at all, we never put up a tree, decorate the house or exchange gifts. we didnt leave milk or cookies out for santa and we definitely didn’t have chimneys that he could come down through and no we didn’t play pretend either, but I liked the idea of being nice, making a wish and seeing that wish wrapped up on christmas morning.

so I wrote to santa, asked for a bike and well skipped the part when I pretended to be sick so I could skip school, I also didn’t tell him I was rude to my sisters, I didn’t think he would notice or mind, but christmas came and went and when I told my dad, he said maybe santa didn’t think I was nice enough. I don’t think I ever owned a bike after that and many years later I still can’t ride a bike and yes I blame him.

I tried harder the following year to be nice, I didn’t want mummy and daddy arguing anymore, they would avoid each other and eat in seperate plates for days and I didn’t like it. but I guess you were to busy because you missed that wish too.

Mummy travelled a few years after and for a long while all I wanted to do was go see her, visit her and probably stay there too but she was gone for ten long years and that never happened. I also didn’t get into senior secondary school after primary 5 or pass JAMB on my first try or graduate when my friends did, I was too busy looking for missing results and I guess I can blame him for all that too.

So year after year, I would write a letter, make a wish and as usual I got nothing but I didn’t give up. finally I met a group of ladies who became friends and one day we all decided to play santa. we would write names on little peices of papers, pick a name, try to figure out what that person wanted and we would surprise them with beautiful things. we called it secret santa

and santa had to remain anonymous until christmas day when we all received our gifts and it felt good. It felt good to unwrap a gift picked with love, it felt good to be thought about in that way, it felt good to give and to see your santees face when they talked about their gift, it felt good to play santa and to put a smile on someone else’s face for a change.

I had hoped it would be a tradition we would continue, it was different , it was nothing like what I was used to and it made christmas much more special.

For a long time I have wanted a real christmas, decorations, a huge tree, ornaments made with care, dinner with my own family and good friends, gifts beneath my tree and hang socks by the fire place with everyone’s name on it, a snowy cold christmas, hot chocolate and movies, a holiday far away with someone I love, time off work, I want to make my own memories, I want my kids to enjoy the myth, I want my own traditions.

So here I am in bed, Its almost 2am and its Your birthday and its the usual no one has remembered to wish me a merry Christmas, even if I have sent out a thousand messages kind of day, there are no fireworks around here because the old folks are asleep and once again I catch myself asking why this year didn’t go as planned, why I didnt have a white and cold holiday like wanted.

I am wondering why I am all alone on the holidays and or why I got to celebrate with a lot of people this year as they unwrapped their many miracles but I had to tough it out, put on a brave face, smile and say constantly that all is well. I am still wondering when I would walk into my home and stare at my tree with gifts wrapped with love

beneath it with my name written on it. I am here wishing that 2017 was less bumpy and that half of my dreams had become flesh.

I know now that santa is nothing but a beautiful myth and christmas isn’t about me or the food, fireworks, gifts beneath the tree but your birth,

I know its a season of giving, loving, sharing and I know that this season is nothing but a beautiful miracle, when God sent you to be born to save a people that didn’t know needed saving,

to become man so you could be bruised, beaten, chastised and ultimately killed

and this miracle never gets old

and I am in awe of you. So today I am asking for a gift of my own, gifts that I can unwrap on chrismas morning but more than that, that I can fully grasp the meaning of the word miracles, not by sharing someone else’s or believing in them or reading about them but that I will come to know miracles and I will have you to thank for each and everyone of them.

I am thankful for this day as always and all that your birth does signify and I am glad we get to relive this miracle each year and that it never gets old.

So here is wishing you a happy birthday Jesus, you know the true meaning of forever young.

Yours faithfully


Don’t you just love her? Can you believe that after one year still feels like she wrote it today. Please help me tell her to keep writing. She’s amazing. And oh! She sends the best emails. I laugh, cry …… Disemi is such a gift and I hope she knows it.

Bye guys.


Pastor mildred

14 thoughts on “Day 22: Christmas Letter 

  1. Wowza! The write up ignited all kinds of emotion. I could feel her excitement, despair, troubles, joy (the part where she and her friends are picking gifts for one another), then resignation and finally acceptance of what Christmas truly means… And since this letter is to Jesus, unlike Santa, he can read and reply.

    And he will surely reply Disemi because you’re finally talking to the right person. Merry Christmas dear.😀😀

    Thank you Mama for sharing this😀😘

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Such a beautiful and uplifting Christmas story.

    It has been elegantly written in an unselfish fashion to encapsulate what Christmas means to everyone; those who believe in the myth of Santa, those who cherish the tradition of putting up a tree with decorations, those who see it as a time when all family members and loved ones come together to share a Christmas meal and catch up, those who celebrate the religious significance of Christmas, and to those who may be spending Christmas alone but revel in the festive mood and are joyous for being alive, happy and thankful for the opportunity that a special day brings to have fun.

    What I take away from your piece is that Christmas is what we make it, there are myths, traditions and societal expectations – but Christmas is generally ‘custom made’ to suit our status, state of mind, finances and circumstance. If there is fuel scarcity and one is unable to get around, gather some firewood and have a BBQ with neighbours and have some fun. For me personally, having fun is what Christmas is about, and defining ‘fun’ is a personal endeavour.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s