Greetings from the North Pole, Part XVIII

Christmas 2020 

My dearest children, 

The Blessed Day has at last arrived, and this most unusual Year is drawing to a close—not a moment too soon, I think, for you living Down Below. One of the great Blessings of life here at the Pole is that (aside from Reindeer Flu and the like) we are generally free of your Human illnesses. The so-called inhospitable climate of the Great White North, coupled with our natural Isolation, has rendered the Great Pandemic of 2020 moot. Would that were true for you! 

And yet Christmas has come to the Thorp Clan, on time and glittering for all that, with a deep cushion of new snow for soft landing all around—thank you, Lily, for your White Christmas wishes! You have all been entirely Blessed this year—all working or in school in a more-or-less Normal Fashion (for Humans, at least), all Healthy, and with a brand-new Wee One to extend the Thorp line. Welcome and well-met, Master Augustine! I shall await next year’s Duty Board (tell your Father, “Yes, he said ‘dooty’”) to see if I am named scribe for the Bismarck Thorps, as well—but in the meantime, the joy of Master Brendan and his beautiful bride brings into sharper focus the desires of my own Heart for Love and Family. Yes, after decades of waiting, there is a Girl, with lovely long hair and warm, smiling eyes like those of Mistress Becky! Her name is Bell, the youngest daughter of ol’ Tuggs Doubletree’s harness-making brood, a rough and rowdy lot. Miss Bell does the finest filigree tooling on Santa’s sleigh bells, and she is just as brassy and joy-filled as her name suggests. I shall have my hands full should my Desires one day be realized—but first, a Date would do! 

But enough of me and my concerns: Lily, you have a couple as-yet Unanswered Questions—though I believe if you read back through past letters (14 years…bless me!) you would find you are not the First to ask these Things! I believe you asked how Santa enters homes without chimneys (a more and more common Phenomenon these days), and how the various reindeer from the great Poems and Songs are doing. 

May I take the latter question first? I hope you won’t be too disappointed to know (as your sister was and does) that those earlier reindeer are No Longer with Us. Naturally, they are long passed—unlike Elves, who, though mortal, are miraculously long-lived, our Reindeer are just deer—bodily and animated creatures, well attended by Doc Vendy and others to be sure, but not the least bit magical in Themselves. Other deer have long since taken the place of Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, et al—just as there were countless generations before them—but all from the same stock and all with a Fearless Disposition with regard to treading clouds and windswept rooftops! 

Indeed, nothing at the Pole is rightly conceived as magical in the Human senses of the world. Reindeer cannot fly by illusion and or sleight of hand, like that of your performing Magicians—and of course, St. Nicholas would not have even a whiff of occult nonsense or pagan Mumbo-Jumbo mixed up in his Business. Heaven forbid! What passes for magic to your eyes is really an extension of Our Lord’s teaching that, if you have Faith the size of a Mustard seed, you could move mountains. As you might imagine, if you have enough faith as to tell a Mulberry Tree to plant itself in the Sea and watch it do so, you must be Very Careful what you wish! Thus when I write of elfin mathematimagicians and aeroanimages, spells and magic, what I really refer to extreme Precision and Persistence in Prayer. We are thorough and detailed in what we ask of God’s providence and plan, in order that the miracles of Christmas as you know and love it may come to pass each year with scarcely a Ripple in the Cosmos, despite that we are doing grand and wonderous Things! Indeed one of the great Myths of life at the North Pole is that, when Master Kringle takes to the skies, we elves celebrate or take our rest. Not so! When the sleigh departs, all of us—young and old, of every trade—join Fr. Aloysius and the Sisters of Perpetual Winter for an all-night vigil including Midnight Mass, caroling and Adoration, that our plans be good, true and beautiful, and that God’s will be done through them! 

Nearly out of paper from rambling, and I still have the question of how the Old Man enters homes without a chimney. In retrospect, I see I’ve answered twice before, so I will share my 2016 reply in hopes that Mistress Lily and the Family might revisit the old letters: 

St. Nicholas goes where he wills, in whatever form is required: a tall and saintly bishop, a plump and fur-clad toymaker, a wisp of Christmas Spirit swirling on a winter breeze. Doors and locks are no obstacle for him—a chimney, a vent, or even a keyhole is as good as a doorway if we wished to enter!

You elder Children have made us proud here at the Pole: Master Gabriel with his missionary service and prayerful simplicity, Miss Emma—Rosebud, as your Father says—spreading Joy and expanding your Horizons at the University of Mary (or Merry, as the case may be!), and Master Trevor sharing music and growing in knowledge and faith at a new school this year. Our Watchers never tire—and never tire of watching you. May God continue to bless you now and in eternity—stay close to Him, and you will weather the Storms of This World unscathed. A very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Siberius Quill

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XVII

Christmas 2019

My dearest children,

Your Father asks, and rightly so: Where does the Time go? Another year, come and gone—One might think the great looping path by which the Earth circles the Sun were diminishing day by day, shortening the Seasons (and warming the Winters!), but I assure you it is not so. The Great Chronometer skips not a beat, year by year; it is We who perceive it differently as We age.

Do the Years seem shorter to you, yet, Master Brendan? Brace yourself, youngling—and your Lovely Bride, too! In a Few Short Days, it may feel as though Tuggs Doubletree has harnessed another young Team or two to your Sleigh. Two I dos and away you’ll fly into the frosty night as Husband and Wife. In centuries past, Such Things were arranged for both Your Kind and Ours, but rest assured, the Both of you: you have chosen well. Noelle Matchwright has studied you from afar and is Most Impressed with your Formation and Discernment, which are mostly absent in Marriages these days.

But forgive me: Madame Matchwright is unknown to you! She is the original elfin Matchmaker here at the Pole, and for many centuries, arranged all Marriages among Our Kind. She has the keen eyes of her father’s Farseer kinsfolk and the saintliness of her maternal Trueheart blood, both of Which lend themselves well to her Mission. It was God’s Providence that she married Sulpherous Matchwright and gained a name that matched her trade. Old Smoky makes matches, as well, but of a much Different Sort. Still the spark was there, and they have many Daughters, each a Spitting Image of their mother in looks and knack, and each named Noelle like the Mother who bore them, making her the First Noelle—truly!

The rest of you Young Ones may notice a speeding of the spin of this Tilted World, as well! Master Gabriel, it is well and wise that you should strive to live in Christmas Present, and neither languish in the Past nor sprint too quickly to the unknown Future. God has great plans for you, today and always, and you are doing the Best Work a man can do: Sharing the love of Him Whose birth eclipses all the Wonders we work up here! Miss Emma Rose, do enjoy these next few months at home with your Siblings and Parents and Friends of all Ages—you and the University of Mary will be mutually blessed next Fall, no doubt, but such Changes are coming, and you are no longer a little girl (much to your Parents’ dismay). Continue to pray and may your new veil serve to focus your attention on the Universal Bridegroom. (I know you hoped for blue lace in honor of Our Lady; this one is more a silver hue, woven of Moonlight on the Snow by the Sisters of Perpetual Winter—I hope it will suffice!) Master Trevor, we continue to enjoy your musical career, in Various Bands, Choirs and Theatrical Productions, as well as the blossoming of your potential Vocation. Fr. Aloysius and Sr. Providence offer Masses and Rosaries for all such aspiring Young People, and have prayed for you, in particular. Whatever the Future holds, know that it will be Blessed to the extent you are open and allow it to be!

And finally, Miss Lily: Bursting with curiosity this year about All Things Christmas. Your dark eyes see much, Little One, but your Heart knows more! Let it lead you to the Truth of things, especially as you prepare for your First Holy Communion! Your Note was late going out, but as I’ve said in the Past, even late is rarely Too Late for jolly old St. Nicholas. You have received what the Old Man thought best, and I’m sure you are happy even without Everything on your List.

You also asked a question: Which is Kris Kringle’s favorite reindeer? I am sorry, but I cannot answer that simply, because there is no Simple Answer! Just like we Elves, Santa’s reindeer come from long family lines, each with its respective strengths that serve us well. The names so familiar to Big Folk below—Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, and Rudolf, of course—are but one generation of reindeer representing countless deer before and after! In their day, Dasher and Comet were the fastest bulls and urged the other six to fly at great speed; Dancer and Prancer were the nimblest of cows, and could bring the Sleigh to halt atop the smallest and steepest of Rooftops; Cupid and Vixen were older, wiser cows that balanced out the dauntless courage of Donner and Blitzen, two bulls who would fly headlong into a Blizzard if it meant a child’s smile. And Rudolf, of course: That miracle buck (bull, rather) whose snout enlightened the gloom of a wet, grey Christmas Eve was gifted supernaturally for the task at hand. Asking Father Christmas to choose a favorite reindeer is like asking him to choose a favorite Child: It cannot be done, because each is a Miracle in his or her Own Right!

I hope that is satisfactory. Alas! The sand in the glass is spent, and I am still writing. I must close now, or this letter will not be delivered! A very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Siberius Quill

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XVI

Christmas 2018

My dearest children,

How very Strange it must feel to age as swiftly as Your Kind! We elves mature slowly, live long, and are by and large born into our Trades, which we Practice and Perfect for decades stretching to centuries, all here at the North Pole. But you: You must grow up and decide in No Time at All what to do with yourselves, learn All You Can in a few short years, and do your best to make a Way for yourselves in the Wider World. It brings a Tear as much as a Twinkle to my eye, as it must for your Dear Parents, to see you grow and leave the proverbial Nest.

But my, what Fine Fledglings you are! Master Brendan, woolly and bearded as old Lewis’s Tumnus, nearly finished with your first degree and with dear Miss Wilke by your side, on the cusp of so many Possibilities and Horizons; Master Gabriel, tall and straight as an aspen, traveling the roads and sharing the Good News like the Apostles of old; the beautiful Miss Emma, ever the elf, spreading Holiday Cheer throughout the year just as We do: with thoughtful Gifts, kind Words and only the best Baked Goods; and Master Trevor—in High School already?—with such talent and love for Music that all the Day-Watchers prefer Seamus Farseer to check in on you in the morning, before School, to hear you play and progress on the piano!

And then, of course, is Lovely Miss Lily: sharp and smart and quite Elfin yourself, with your Pixie cut and eyes like Dark Pools beneath a moonlit sky. It is a Blessing for me and your parents both to have a youngling with such enthusiasm for All Things Christmas as well as a Love of Toys, which are still very much in Our Wheelhouse, as your Father would say. You sent no questions with your Note to Santa, but you mentioned to your Dad that you wondered whether that white-bearded Wonderworker would know you wanted a Vikings shirt even though you forgot to mention it! Your parents took care of that for you, but the answer is, Of course He knows! He always knows!

Not only is the Watcher Corps well aware of all such Wants and Conversations, but should Things change drastically in the Last Hours before Christmas (or Heaven forbid, we Elves make a mistake—for we are no more Perfect than you Big Folk!), the Swifters sweep into action. These the most fleet-footed and stealthy of Elves make Emergency Switches and Last-Minute Deliveries, unseen by even the keenest of eyes of night-bird or -beast! The first Swifters were Flit Golightly, a skilled and silent Hunter with bow and blade, even on the open tundra, and his fiancée, Feather Fletcher. Late in your 19th Century, the two delivered several forgotten Gifts one Christmas morning even as the Sun rose in the East, and No One below the Circle was the wiser! Their firstborn, Flint, was as lead-footed and clumsy as our Kind come, but remains a master Bowyer and Arrow-wright in his Mother’s line; his younger twin siblings, Felix and Felicity, now handle last-minute deliveries in the Wee Hours!

Such stories I could tell, had I the time to Ramble—but alas (and at last), it is Christmas Eve! Perhaps your Father and I should collaborate again on a story? A Pipe and a Pint would help matters, but we are Not Allowed to meet Your Kind face-to-face, or what would it mean to Believe? Faith, then, children, and a Very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Siberius Quill