The Day I lost belief in Santa Claus and God

Tamyara Brown
5 min readDec 11, 2017

I was eleven years old living in Spanish Harlem. At that impressionable age I was seeking guidance because my mother was battling her issues. Each day after school and on the weekends I’d pack groceries bags at Associates.

A girl name Catherine and I would be the only girls at a hustle known for boys. We didn’t care we liked making money and the manager would give us day old bakery goods, breads and add to the change we made.

Ms. Blanche was a God- fearing woman who ask me to help her bring her bags upstairs. It was the time you could push the carts to the projects and when you came back it would be gone. She’d recite a Bible verse to me and remind me to pray everyday. I took heed because her apartment was so beautiful, clean, and smell so good. I admire her because she dressed nice, always had a smile on her face.

June to December I packed bags, study, and save money. Why? Because I was going to give my brother the best Christmas ever.

In our apartment was a broken window and I’d kneel on the floor, read a Bible that made no sense to me. I wanted and desired to be closed to God because Ms. Blanche said, “If you pray, be a good girl, and trust God he will give you whatever your heart desires.”

So near that broken window I kneel looking to the sky for two things. I’ll explain later what those two were. Back then I watched all my friends and family not pray but party but have nice things. Drink and be merry and never struggle. Yet, they had nice things and clothes.

I would say, “God and Santa Claus must really love you. He answers all your prayers I got pray harder.”

My friend Niesha was a smart ass would say, “No Mommy and Daddy sell crack it’s why we have nice things.”

Oneday helping Ms. Blanche with her bags I said, “I don’t think God hears me and Santa Claus is mad at me. Should I pray harder?”

“Chile, ain’t no Santa Claus he is fictional and the only thing real is God.Nothing else! I promise you God will answer you have to pray harder and longer.”

So I went to school, pack bags, study and prayed harder by the broken window. I knew Santa Claus wasn’t real after while because he some how miss our house. Our house didn’t have a tree and a chimney. I worked hard and save up seventy-five dollars. I hid it in my sock and a box all for my brother to have a nice Christmas.

As I was praying by the broken window I noticed the box outside and my sock. I ran to my room and my bed was flip over, room trashed and my brother said, “We’ve been robbed.” Pissed off and crying I walked to Ms. Blanche house, walked up twelve flights of steps and banged on her door.

I screamed at her, “You and God lied to me. I pray everyday, I’m a good girl, go to school everyday and prayed like you told me too.”

She tried to console me and announced, “it is not on your timing but God’s. He will give you everything you ask for just believe him.

“All my friends and familydoes bad things everyday and they have toys, money and a nice apartment. Why does that seem fair? I did everything you told me to do every day. Your telling either he doesn’t like me or he doesn’t hear me?”

She gave Bible quotes and attempted to pray with me. I shook my head no because that moment was pivotal. I was eleven already battling so much. I was packing grocery bags for food for my brother and I. My mother had issues, I was picked on and I didn’t even pray for me but my brother and our house.

The struggle was real and I was seeking hope. I was seeking a miracle. I needed to know that good things happen to good people. The friends at the time my mother was hanging around was doing the unthinkable had nice cars clothes and money. I needed to see for myself God rewards good people and my work with faith wasn’t dead.

It set a tone for me because what I wanted was my broken window to be fixed and to give my brother the best Christmas. Nothing devastated me more than that prayer not being answered. It was also because it wasn’t what I wanted or needed but for my brother.

In that year,I stopped believing in Santa Claus and I stopped having Faith in God. I prayed by that broken window because every element came through that window. It was that broken window that signify to me at least whether God heard me. I wanted the window fixed because it would have shown me if I prayed small God would provide.

I worked all through the year to give my brother nice gifts so he wouldn’t be angry on Christmas. The money being stolen, the window never being fixed set a tone of losing faith. It set the tone of me still to this day wondering how good people who are God fearing still suffer. How evil prevails and are rich beyond belief.It is the issue I have with God.

I guess even today though I know God is real and Santa is fake I’m still confused. I look into this world and it sometimes feels like the disappointment weighs heavy on me. I become the little girl praying for the broken window to be fixed.The child who has no clue why this is happening.

Every time I go to a church service and I see good and evil dwell in the Lord’s house. I become the eleven year old girl angry at Santa Claus, God, and Ms.Blanche. My faith is as tiny as a mustard seed, it the event in my life that scarred me.

December is significant and sad for me. It is the month life formed an impression. As an adult I wonder how many girls and boys have prayed seeking the smallest things. How many the moment their prayer isn’t answered lose belief in God? All I know is for me it impacted me. I believe now he is real but in the back of my mind there are question marks. Maybe I am the only one? I just know that it impacted me.

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Tamyara Brown
Tamyara Brown

Written by Tamyara Brown

Tamyara is an author of eight novels, blogger, graphic and website designer. She is also the host of B.L.A.H Diaries.

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