I remember it like it was only yesterday. In actuality, it was three years ago, but the lesson learned will last throughout my lifetime. In sharing it with you, I remain hopeful its sweet message will live on in the hearts of many.

On a cold, wintry, late December day, our youngest daughter asked if I would go with her to the mall. My initial instinct was to remind her that it was 23 degrees outside, and being 4 days before Christmas, there would be no parking and the mall would be packed with panicked people frantically looking for that perfect present. Within seconds I reminded myself that there will never be a better time to make memories and fortunately, I rethought my decision.

Yes, it was frigid outside. Of course, parking was a problem. As for the inside of the mall, "wall-to-wall people" would be an accurate description. My daughter's face told another story; she was completely ensconced in the holiday feeling. She loved the lights, the music, and especially the sweet scent of cinnamon muffins being freshly baked. I surrendered. I decided that there was really nothing I HAD to be doing, or even SHOULD be doing apart from bonding with my child and making memories. Together we set the scene for an unforgettable afternoon. We fell victim to the cinnamon creations that called our name. We washed down the sticky gooeyness with a cup of hot chocolate covered by a huge, snowy heap of whipped cream. Then we joined the hoards of people in search of all gifts that promised to make this Christmas the merriest of all. With the countdown to Dec 25th looming, we became intertwined with the jingle mingle, participating in this pre-christmas merry-making ritual.

I soon found myself lost in this blissful madness. The excitement of both parents and children was almost palpable! How I longed for those days gone-by when our daughter excitedly sat on Santa's lap and shared with him what she hoped to find under the tree on Christmas day. How far she'd come from that small, blond-pigtailed girl who insisted on helping me to bake the cookies we'd leave out for Santa. Such sweet memories...

Regrettably, I made the mistake of remarking how glad I was that we no longer had to wait in line to visit Santa. While I never dared to ask my daughter what we were actually at the mall for, I definitely THOUGHT I knew what we were NOT there to do. I believed that at the age of nineteen, she would have no interest in standing in the endless line to see Santa, let alone sit on his knee. Boy, was I mistaken... in more ways than one!

For the second time in as many hours I found myself rethinking my priorities and my role as a mother. Before I knew it, I joined all the other mothers in the Santa line. For me, there was simply no way out. Besides, I knew better. I was not about to set into motion Nicole's diatribe of "YOLO, mom! You Only Live Once!"

While in line we decided upon the menu and recipes for our holiday meal, and even composed a shopping list. After Nicole apprised me on college dorm life, I shed light on what life was like before computers and cell phones. All the while I wondered how this "Santa thing" was going to play out. Mostly, I wondered if I could be lucky enough to remain an innocent bystander while she enjoys her visit with Santa. Despite my being a fierce proponent of communication, I wondered if my remaining quiet might lead Nicole to leave me out of this Santa visit. One can only hope... right?

Well, you can't always have what you want. And sometimes, you might even get what you don't want!

We were now at the front of the line. I looked to Nicole, hoping she would hand me her bags to hold while she smiled next to Santa as her picture was taken. I reached to grab her bags, but somehow she missed my cue. Or, maybe I just missed her plan. She wasn't ever planning on sitting alone on Santa's lap. It was WE who were part of her plan. WE were going to sit with Santa.

Here's the part I desperately needed to know ASAP; if this didn't end well, who was going to save whom? Which one of us would do the explaining? What if Santa wasn't okay with our joint visit? Right about now I began to wish for so many things.... At the top of my wish list was an escape plan; sadly the line now wound completely around us, leaving no place to hide. Next up on my wish list- a wig, and glasses complete with the big nose and mustache. With no other viable options, I faced REALITY; Nicole had made her choice. She sat there, squarely on Santa's left knee. He directed me to sit on his remaining knee. In one small, frightening moment, my biggest fear was becoming a reality! What if I was to heavy for him? Would Santa end up being taken to the ER in an ambulance while all the children in line witnessed the end of their innocence along with the devastating realization that their gifts would not be coming this year? What about all the parents who would now have major explaining to do for their children? What if rather than sustaining a simple limb injury, poor Santa ended up going into cardiac arrest? My anxiety spiraled out of control. I now had no choice. He, Nicole and everyone in line were becoming impatient with my standing there like "frozen man!" I had to hope for the best and take that giant-yet-gentle leap onto his right knee. 3-2-1- go! I closed my eyes and prayed fast and hard! At this moment, my prayers were not for world peace, good health or even a Prada bag. Nope. I prayed for this experience to end successfully, quickly, and without incident. No 911 calls, no devastated children, no furious parents and no law suits (Santa suits are okay!) Short and sweet. That was my prayer!

The next few minutes were much less traumatic than expected. Nicole and I faced one another on Santa's knees as we smiled for the photographer. Santa then looked into Nicole's eyes and asked her what she wanted for Christmas. She was taken aback, as she felt sure Santa knew this was just a silly little mother-daughter antic not to be taken seriously. Always one with a dream and a plan, Nicole shared her wish for a new boyfriend and a raise at her part-time job. Santa then shifted his gaze on me; "How about you, mom? What do you wish for?" For me, this answer was a "no-brainer." My wishes are the same for every day and Christmas Day; a cure for cancer and yes, world peace. Unoriginal, yet heartfelt. Unconcerned with those in line becoming impatient, Santa challenged me; "How nice. But what do you REALLY wish for?

Such a loaded question, albeit one that took me completely off-guard. My answer came from a place of honesty and pain. "I want to lose weight and stop hating myself every time I eat anything."

I believe my honest response was not within the realm of anything this poor Santa ever expected to hear. He drew in a long breath, then looked deeply into my eyes, and looked sad all the way into his soul. His eyes filled, and in a low whisper he asked me, "Do you not think you are an amazing gift from God? Do you not believe you are beautiful as you are? Do you not know that for your daughter and family you are their world? Do you think you are unfit to make a difference just as you are? My dear sweet soul, you are always where you are meant to be, and you all that you were meant to be--- and that will always be enough. The love in your heart is all you need to better our world."

Those words... They were the gift I never wished for. They were the only gift I ever really needed. They are the gift I carry in my heart, and repeat silently to myself on a daily basis. They were the only information I needed all along.

And so, in addition to honoring the man who appeals to the hearts of children all over the world, I add my own personal gratitude. While I never intended to be in the mall, in the Santa line, and on Santa's knee, I WAS exactly where I was supposed to be. Because of that, I received a gift I never expected, yet will forever cherish. More importantly, because I am already all I was meant to be, I will remain unafraid to make a difference whenever and wherever I can.

Next year, when holiday time rolls around again, know that sometimes the very best gifts will not be left under the tree. They will be left in your heart...