As the holidays approach, coinciding with the work of closing one semester and anticipating the demands of the next, I’m often struck by a familiar sense of unease: the feeling that the work is never truly finished and that responsibilities continue to accumulate. In these moments, I turn to reflective and inspirational writing to regain perspective. When doubts emerge about my own capacities, or when my confidence falters in the belief that our efforts ultimately matter, I find myself returning to “Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus,” the enduring 1897 editorial by Francis Pharcellus Church, published in The New York Sun. Written in response to a letter from 8-year-old Virginia O’Hanlon who questioned the existence of Santa Claus after being told by her peers that he wasn’t real, the essay transcends its seasonal origins. It offers a timeless meditation on faith, generosity, and the quiet, unseen forces that give meaning to our work and sustain us through periods of doubt.

Now widely regarded as the most famous newspaper editorial ever written, the essay continues to endure for its affirmation of unseen goodness and the abiding power of kindness. As I reflected on its meditation on faith and trust, I found myself wondering: What if Virginia were a patient, writing from her hospital bed: “I’m 8 years old. Some of my friends say there’s no Santa Claus… Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?” and her letter were answered not by a newspaper editor, but by a bedside nurse? What form might such a response take? What language would best convey reassurance, presence, and hope in moments of vulnerability? What follows is my own modest attempt to channel the spirit of Francis Pharcellus Church. I offer it with deep respect for the original, with the hope that he might approve, or at least forgive, this reimagining.

Dear Virginia,

Your friends are wrong. They’ve been touched by a world that only believes what it can see with its eyes and feel with its hands. They think that if something can’t be measured, pointed to, or proven right away, then it must not be real.

But, Virginia, all minds, grown-ups’ and children’s, are small in their own way. The world is very big, and many of the most important things in it can’t be seen at all. Love can’t be put in a box. Kindness can’t be held like a toy. Caring can’t be wrapped in paper. And yet, you know they’re real, because you feel them.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He lives as surely as love, generosity, and hope live. And that same spirit you believe in is also found in nursing.

Think of a nurse, Virginia. A nurse may not wear a red suit or ride a sleigh, but every day nurses give gifts that matter just as much. They give comfort when someone is scared. They give warmth when someone feels alone. They give courage when bodies hurt and hearts feel tired. Like Santa, nurses show up when people need them most.

Wouldn’t the world be very sad if there were no Santa Claus? It would be just as sad if there were no nurses. Hospitals would be quiet in a lonely way. People would feel frightened without gentle voices explaining what’s happening. Children would miss the reassuring smile that says, “You’re safe. I’m here.”

Your friends might say, “But I don’t see Santa Claus.” And someone else might say, “I don’t see caring.” But not seeing something doesn’t mean it’s not real. Nobody sees Santa slipping down chimneys, just as nobody sees compassion moving from one heart to another. Yet we know they’re there because of what they do.

Have you ever seen courage itself? Probably not. But you’ve seen someone be brave. Have you ever seen kindness floating in the air? No, but you’ve felt it when someone held your hand. That’s how Santa lives, Virginia. That’s how nursing lives, too.

When a nurse stays late to make sure someone is okay, when a nurse listens carefully, when a nurse believes in a patient even when the patient feels weak, that’s Santa’s spirit at work. It’s faith in goodness. It is generosity without asking for anything back. It’s love doing its job quietly.

So, Virginia, don’t let anyone tell you Santa Claus isn’t real. Thank goodness he lives—and he lives in nurses, in caregivers, and in everyone who chooses to care for others.

A thousand years from now, and even ten thousand years from now, that spirit will still be here, making hearts feel safer, warmer, and gladder.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. And every day, nursing helps prove it.

In the end, nursing stands as a living testament to the enduring power of humanism in healthcare. Like the spirit invoked in “Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus,” nurses affirm that what matters most is often unseen yet deeply felt: presence, empathy, and faith in one another’s dignity. As long as nurses continue to practice with conscience and compassion, the light of humanism in healthcare will endure, quietly, and unmistakably real.