Letter addressed by Santa to His loved ones

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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 may have satisfactions, pleasures, even luck, but happiness does not.
No, because, first, the wicked can be loved harder, and the second,… second… of! luck and the other “pears of corns,” which are like him, come, apparently — from outside, from men, from circumstances, over which you have no dominion and no power, while happiness, true happiness in you springs up and in you flourishes 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 strung and again 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 they deserve, because divine grace is great…

Oh, if we didn’t love ourselves (limited human ego) so without measure, if we did not make so many cases of our person and if we rebuked ourselves as many times as we lied or surprised ourselves on a malice or on an ugly deed, if, finally, we would examine ourselves more often and more with unbiasedness (easy to say!), we would end up scraping that part of ourselves of fudulous stupidity, of malice and filthy dishonesty, from which the “I” often get fat, the inferior one that indulges in our noble creature.
It is known that pain is a wonderful counselor (although it would be good to have the ear trained to hear SI counselors other than pain).
He who is more open-minded also learns from the pains of others.
I have great confidence in your will.
It remains to know only what to want. And I see you’ve started to know that.

Lord, how good it seems to me that you have begun to notice yourself, to make your own rebukes and to look for your own true way!

So, dear child, quarrel as many times as you feel selfish, how many times the serpent of wickedness, envy or lies bites you by the heart.
Be wise and harsh with yourself, straight with friends and broad but firm soul with the wicked. Make yourself small, make yourself insignificant whenever cleverness prompts you to cry out, “Look at me!”
But especially I would like to write in your soul this: 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 full contentment, as a clear conscience.
Keep this letter.
When you’re even bigger, you’re going to understand it better.
May God give it to read it then with the serene soul of today.
He hugs you fondly,
Santa’

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

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