Letter addressed by Santa to His loved ones

Letter addressed by Santa to His loved ones

“To live, dear child, and to be good, – to be good so that you can be happy.
The wicked cannot be happy. They can have satisfactions, pleasures, even luck, but not happiness.
No, because, first, the bad can be loved more difficult, and second,… The second… of! Luck and the other “pears” that resemble it, apparently come from outside, from people, from circumstances, over which you have no dominion and no power, while happiness, true happiness in you sprouts and blooms in you and binds fruit, when you have prepared your soul for it.

And the preparation… It is a work of every moment, – when you lose patience, you scatter everything you have lined up and you have to start from the beginning.

That’s why you don’t see all people happy… There are as many as they deserve… even a little more than it deserves, because the divine grace is great…

Oh, if we didn’t love ourselves (the limited human ego) so immeasurably, if we didn’t pay so much attention to ourselves and if we reprimanded ourselves every time we lied or surprised ourselves about a wickedness or an ugly deed, if we finally examined ourselves more often and more impartially (it’s easy to say!), we would end up scraping from ourselves that part of the stupidity, of malice and of filthy dishonesty, from which the inferior “I” that boasts in our noble creature is often fattened.
It is known that pain is a wonderful adviser (although it would be good to have the ear trained to hear AND other advisers than pain).
Those who are more open-minded also learn from the pains of others.
I have great confidence in your will.
All that remains is to know what to want. And I see you’re starting to know that.

Lord, how good it seems to me that you have begun to observe yourself, to rebuke yourself and to seek your true path on your own!

So, dear child, argue whenever you feel selfish, whenever the snake of malice, envy or lies bites you in the heart.
Be wise and harsh with yourself, fair with your friends and broad-hearted but firm with the wicked. Make yourself small, make yourself insignificant whenever cleverness urges you to cry out: “Look at me!”
But above all, I would like to write this in your soul: not to do any deed, the memory of which could ever make you blush. There is no triumph in the world, no stronger support, no complete contentment, like a clear conscience.
Keep this letter.
When you are even older, you will understand it better.
May God grant that you read it even then with today’s serene soul.
He hugs you with love,
Santa

(adapted from Alexandru Vlahuță’s Letter to his daughter, Margareta)