A LESSON IN THANKS: 24 Santas, 1 journey, endless connections
I decided to purchase a huge box of Santa chocolates. I was lost in my holiday planning lists, worrying about the forecast for freezing rain and the innumerable things that would need to align—three airport security lines, two connections, one passport control, and a midnight shuttle to the rental car agency—to get to my sister’s in California in the wee hours of Christmas morning.
As I zipped up my carry-on, the 24 Santas were the final addition. I packed them with a specific group in mind: the people already at their airport posts, working so I could be with my family. Imagining the entire system fascinated me, and I thought of the hive of humanity—each person contributing to my moment of possibility.
The mission began at the check-in counter, where the air buzzed with holiday chaos. After checking our bags and receiving boarding passes, I reached for a Santa.
Then, the hesitation crept in. What if she thinks this is silly? Or stupid? What if she doesn’t like chocolate? Funny how much courage a small act of kindness requires. I pushed past the insecurity and anchored myself in my intention.
I took a deep breath, looked her in the eyes, and said, “Thank you for being here on Christmas Eve. Your work tonight allows me to travel to my family for this holiday. While you’re apart from your own loved ones, you’re making it possible for me to be with mine, and that means so much.”
My cheeks flushed, and my voice trembled slightly. It was hard to stand fully in the emotion without glossing over it. Tossing the Santa to her with a quick “thanks” would have been easier, but it would have left so much unexpressed.
Why is it embarrassing to feel the tears that come with genuine emotion? Why do I chide myself even in a moment of giving? How fascinating.
Courageously, I repeated that act of gratitude 22 more times.
The TSA security guard said it was the first time anyone had ever thanked him, holiday or not, and we shared a big laugh and a hug. The Duty-Free employee teared up as she spoke of family too far away to join for the holidays. The flight attendant said she loved working Christmas Eve because the anticipation on passengers’ faces reminded her of the joy they’d experience at their destinations. The women cleaning the lounge were startled; they weren’t used to being noticed, let alone acknowledged. The rental car agent laughed, saying yes, the night shift was hard, but she let a colleague with young kids take the evening off and upgraded us to a bright yellow Camaro. And so it went: smiles, tears, happiness, and the exquisite joy of shared moments.
Each time, I spoke with my heart wide open. Each time, I felt the vulnerability of reaching out, the delicate risk of giving while wrestling with the fear of how my gratitude would be received. Even with such a simple gesture, I marvelled at how deeply I feared rejection or ridicule.
It is surprisingly vulnerable to meet person to person, heart to heart.
We often talk about gratitude. But how often do we find the courage to act on it? To truly sink into that heartfelt moment of “thank you” and connect with the energy that moves us?
I’ve been practicing this delicate art for a few years now, inspired by a trip to Nepal. There, I humbly received gratitude from children at the Child Haven Orphanage during the opening of their new school. They stood still in the moment of thanks. They didn’t hasten it, waver, or look away. Their eyes met mine as they dropped into their hearts with innocent ease, expressing joy, excitement, and wistfulness. They clasped my hands, laughed, and even teared up. They never shrank from the opportunity to connect and share.
For them, gratitude was an action verb. It was something to give and receive—a way to honour both self and another.
I am still refining my own practice of gratitude. This time, it came with the help of 24 Santas. I treasure the gift of courage they brought me and challenge myself daily to embrace the new year with open-hearted action, practicing what my dear Nepalese friends taught me.
Gratitude comes with the courage of action.
