It’s great to give now, but why do we turn a blind eye for rest of year?

A COUPLE of years ago, I was asked to deputise for Santa Claus in one of our projects at Barnardos. Santa himself was having a particularly busy time and although he had promised he would visit each child personally on Christmas eve, he just wasn’t going to be able to make their Christmas party on time.

For reasons I can’t fathom, my colleagues thought I might just fit the suit, and with nice shiny boots and a great big white beard I would make an adequate substitute.

So I tried the suit on, and without wishing to sound immodest, it didn’t look half bad. He’s a big guy, that Santa Claus, but his suit seemed pretty comfortable. Even though the long white beard was a bit tickly, I figured I could do the job.

The only trouble was, when I made my grand entrance to the party, the children weren’t too impressed. In fact, they were pretty suspicious. These might have been kids whose economic circumstances weren’t good, but they were bright as buttons.

Eventually, one of them, a little girl, made her way over to me. I reckon she had been delegated by the others.

“Your beard is fake!” she announced. My heart nearly stopped. If I didn’t pass this test, I was really going to let Santa down.

“That’s only my visiting beard,” I told her. “When I’m back at the North Pole getting all the toys together, I have a real one, but it’s a lot shorter than this.”

And I invited her to lift up the long white beard and look at the rapidly greying one underneath.

She did more than look, she gave it a tug. And then, to the relief of all the Barnardos elves present, she shouted over to her pals. “It’s alright. He has a real one!”

I’ve never looked back since then.

Every year I ask Santa’s permission to borrow the suit for a few days before Christmas so I can visit groups of children on his behalf, and so far he has always been kind enough to let me do it.

I’ve always loved Christmas, ever since I was a kid myself. And one of the things that never ceases to amaze me is how, despite everything, it still seems to bring out the best in people.

In Barnardos we run a toy appeal every year, with the support of AIB branches around the country, and you’d be astonished at the number of toys we get. I know from talking to other people in the charitable sector that people are much more willing to respond to appeals from the St Vincent de Paul Society, Simon or the many other organisations that do good work at this time of year.

It should not be necessary, of course. As a society and as a community we can do an awful lot better all year round in helping families to break out of the cycle of poverty.

The blind eye we turn for 11 months of the year can sometimes be the thing that makes the last month of the year so hard for some people.

Let me tell you a true story about one family we know. Seán and his four younger siblings lived with their mum and dad in a small house in rural Ireland. Although the house had three bedrooms, there was a lot of damp. Seán and his younger sister have chronic asthma as a result.

It’s not a great housing estate and Seán’s mum, Sarah, worried a lot when the kids were out playing. But there were bigger problems brewing. There had been lots of tension on the estate with some of the families fighting with each other. The trouble influenced everyday life. Seán’s parents didn’t get involved, though.

Sarah told us: “We just wanted a quiet life. We didn’t want to get involved with any fighting. I was so sad that the children couldn’t make any friends, but it just wasn’t safe for them to go out.”

One night Sarah’s worst fears came true. But it wasn’t her children who got hurt. Her husband, John, went to the local for a quiet pint after work. A fight broke out and he stepped in to break it up. He was attacked and died a few days later from internal bleeding.

Sarah didn’t know how to cope with the family. She was prescribed pills to calm her down. She didn’t feel like she could go on. She didn’t know how to hold the family together.

And the trial that followed John’s death made the tensions in the community worse and isolated Sarah further.

At Christmas last year, Sarah was so stressed she took an overdose and nearly died.

She was alone, without friends, and she couldn’t organise for Santa to deliver what the kids really wanted. In fact it was going to be difficult to put food on the table. She could deal with adversity, but Christmas almost overwhelmed her.

It took weeks to recover, even with support. Apart from the physical effects, she was overcome with guilt at nearly abandoning her kids, when she was all they had left.

Seán didn’t want to let his dad down. He tried to be the big man of the house. But he had really bad nightmares. He couldn’t concentrate in school. He was just so angry, felt so alone, that one evening he punched a hole in the wall at the top of the stairs.

He told us: “I really miss my dad. We used to have lots of fun. He was always making up funny stories. And I’m scared mum is going to be sick again. Who will look after us then?”

SEÁN and his family are just one of many families in Ireland trapped in neglected communities which are under constant pressure from violence and drugs. Children growing up in damp, cramped houses. Families struggling to make ends meet. Parents sometimes gripped by a complete feeling of hopelessness.

The good news is that Seán and Sarah are getting the help they need now, in a variety of ways. Sarah has been befriended by some of the other mums in the locality, mothers who’ve been though tough times themselves.

Schooling for all the kids will be a challenge rather than a problem. Their local authority has done some work on the house and has promised more. Seán has someone to talk to about the stuff he’s had to deal with.

And Santa Claus will be visiting next Monday night.

So, in wishing you a really happy Christmas this year, could I ask just one thing? Try to imagine what it might be like to need a neighbour or a friend at this time of year, and not to have one. And then just keep an eye out for your neighbours — old or young.

This is a wonderful time to be surrounded by friends and a tough time to be alone.

And if you see a rather well-built, if ageing, gentleman in a bright red suit, with white fur trimmings and a long white beard, it might just be me.

But it’s much more likely to be the real Santa Claus. Happy Christmas.