Special Delivery to the North Pole

by Arielle Arbushites

This week, my six-year-old son decided that Santa needed a Pride flag. Not next December. Not because anyone told him to. As an off-season “gift” since Santa is usually the one doling out presents.

So he carefully placed a small Pride flag into an envelope, addressed it to Santa at the North Pole, and proudly placed it into the mailbox.

And you know what? I think Santa should have a Pride flag.

If there is any place in the world that represents radical welcome, it ought to be the North Pole. A place where every child matters. Every child belongs. Every child is worthy of love, care, safety, and joy.

As a hospice social worker, I spend my days sitting with people at the most vulnerable moments of their lives. I have yet to meet someone who wished they had loved less. I have yet to hear someone say they regret being accepted for who they were.

What I see, over and over again, is the cost of rejection. The weight of shame. The loneliness that comes from believing there is no place for you in the world.

And I see the healing that becomes possible when someone is met with acceptance instead.

The Pride flag has always seemed less about politics and more about humanity. It is a simple declaration that every person deserves dignity. That love is love. That people should not have to earn belonging.

My son doesn’t know all of the debates adults have about Pride. He only knows that some people love differently than others, and that this is not a reason to exclude them.

So naturally, in his mind, Santa should know and be part of that too.

Maybe that’s why children sometimes make better leaders than adults. They have not yet learned all the complicated ways of the world. They simply see people.

And as June comes to a close, somewhere between our mailbox and the North Pole, a Pride flag is traveling toward Santa. I hope he hangs it up. And I hope the rest of us spend a little less time deciding who deserves a seat at the table and a little more time pulling up extra chairs. You belong.