“Another Letter To Santa”
Noah never missed a Christmas without writing his letter to Santa. He began the tradition when he was only five years old—the year after the tragic accident that sent his parents to heaven. Of course, Grandma Willis helped him at first. But Santa never answered.
Now he was eight.
This time, I’m not going to ask for anything, he thought to himself.
He began to write:
Dear Santa,
I know there are kids out there who need you more than I do. So this year, I’m not asking for anything. I just want to know if you’re real. I write to you every Christmas, but you never answer.
Please take care of the kids who need you more—and if you have time, please stop by to see me.
He placed the letter in a red envelope—the same kind he used every year—and set it carefully on the fireplace mantle. Just like always. Then he went to bed, hoping that maybe, this time, Santa would answer.
On Christmas Eve morning, Noah woke up and headed toward the kitchen when something caught his eye: a bright red envelope outside the window.
He opened it. It was addressed simply: To Noah.
Inside was a single card, and on it, just three words:
Let’s find out. –S.
Could it be? he wondered. Did he really answer me this time?
All day long, Noah thought about the letter—but that was all it said: Let’s find out. What did it mean?
The day passed, still no sign of Santa. And soon, it was bedtime.
He crawled into bed, the letter still on his mind, until he finally fell asleep.
In the middle of the night, the sound of jingling bells woke him.
Noah rushed to the window—and there it was.
A sleigh. Reindeer. Snow swirling in the moonlight. Santa himself.
Before he could move, Santa was in the room. He smiled, held out his arms, and lifted Noah into the sleigh.
Moments later, they were soaring through the sky.
“Never give up on your dreams, young Noah,” Santa told him. “Whenever life feels hard, remember—there are others who have it even harder. So never cry over what you don’t have. Go out and find a way to get it.”
Noah never forgot those words.
The night was a blur of magic and joy. They traveled the world—faster than Noah could ever imagine—and now, they were heading back.
On Christmas morning, Noah woke up in his bed.
It had to be a dream, he thought. I don’t remember coming home… or climbing back into bed.
But the joy he felt—it still lingered.
He walked into the front room—and gasped.
It was decorated for Christmas. For the first time ever.
There were gifts under the tree. One for every year he had missed out. And even gifts for Grandma.
She didn’t seem surprised at all.
“I believe God sent them,” she said with a smile.
Noah opened his presents. Each one more amazing than the last. And then he came to the final box.
Inside, wrapped gently in tissue paper, was a framed photograph.
A picture of his parents.
The only one he had.
A tear rolled down his cheek as he held it to his chest, then he showed Grandma, they both cried a little and Christmas was never the same for either one.