Before I begin, I know Christians have different views on Old Saint Nick.  In my early days of kid ministry, I got in a bit of trouble in Kid’s Church once when I said there was no such thing as Santa.  On the other extreme, some have said that Santa is one letter misplaced from Satan.  If you’re from either pole (er… yeah) my actions might be controversial, but like the great theologian (Popeye) said, “I am what I am.”    
Santa was never taken very seriously in my family.  I distinctly remember one Christmas at Oma Kosachuk’s when my mom’s uncle put a strategically ripped napkin on his face and said, “Ho ho ho.”  For all our purposes, or at least the lifetime of that napkin, he was Santa.
My Santa suit this year was better than that napkin, but not much.  That is to say, it’s the best Santa Suit that seven dollars can buy.  I went on the annual trip to Uzhgorod, Ukraine to bring Christmas cheer to an orphanage that consists mostly of gypsy children.  87 boys and 15 girls.
     Once there, we prepared 130 Christmas bags for the kids.  Each bag contained useful things, like pencils and notebooks, mandarin oranges and juice boxes.  Then there was fun stuff, like cars or stuffed toys.  That evening, we found imitation Lego sets for 2 grivna each (40 cents!).  I bought quite a few.  Lego is, of course, the coolest gift you could give, even though they weren’t “quite” Lego toys.  
How do you minister to 103 orphans when you don’t speak the language, don’t know much about the culture, and are limited to a few days?  This was my prayer before I left.  The truth is you can’t.  I felt like God said, “Your mission will come find you.”
When we first arrived, we were audience for a concert performed by some of the orphans.  Sure enough, a little gypsy boy, six years old, reached for me to pick him up.  His most distinguishing feature was his immediate need for a Kleenex.  After wiping him and putting him on my lap, I learned his name was Popovich.  He became my left hand during that stay.  He particularly enjoyed my watch.
My right hand was even more memorable, a six year old girl named Leda.  I can count on one hand the words I know in Ukrainian, and I’m on the slow boat to learning Russian.  On the other hand, I think I’m pretty fluent at the language of “Hug.”  I’ve been practicing it for years.  But Little Leda spoke a dialogue of “Touch” that I’d not encountered before.  
     Little Leda took me by both cheeks and looked into my eyes.  She rubbed my “sideburns.”  She pinched my nose, felt my eyebrows, and smelled my hair and squealed.  Again she rubbed the stubble on my chin.  That was, I think, her favorite.  If I had allowed it, she would have played with my face for hours.  There was such an intensity in her desire to explore my face.  
     The next day at the orphanage, I played the part of Santa.  Our Ukrainian speakers went in first, and read part of the Christmas story from the Bible.  They explained why we give gifts at Christmas and of the greatest Christmas gift of all, Jesus.  Then it was time for me to come in the Santa Claus suit and the gifts.  A little “Ho, ho, ho” was all my contribution.  Most kids knew exactly who I was and would let me know.
     Still, most of my stay in the Uzhgorod orphanage was Popovich on one knee, and Leda on the other rubbing my “real beard.”  That was the important part.  We’ll return at least once but possibly twice this year.  Last year they did a Kids Kamp for about forty of these orphans and we’ll do the same in 2006.

¶ 1:46 AM

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