Christmas in the Dutch Caribbean carried a kind of magic all its own. We celebrated both Sinterklaas and Santa, which meant welcoming Santa twice. On December 5th, with no chimneys on the island, we left our shoes by the front door, believing Sint Nicholas had a magic key to slip inside and leave our gifts. The night before, we wrote poems and sang Sinterklaas songs aloud, convinced that if he heard us, he wouldn’t forget our house.

Even as children, we baked cakes that appeared only once a year, decorated the tree, opened our doors to neighbors who simply wanted company, and secretly dipped our little hands in paint while the adults refreshed the house for the season after another year had passed.

Much of that warmth came from the women who raised me. Their quiet steadiness shaped our holidays as much as any tradition. They created space for us to feel held, cared for, and deeply rooted in family.

And woven through it all, the story of the baby Jesus anchored our season in generosity and gentleness. It taught me that the most powerful gifts are often the smallest ones, offered with intention, love, and a desire to lift someone’s heart.

As we grew older and learned what was real and what wasn’t, our celebrations shifted. We pulled names from a bowl, crafted handmade gifts, and wrote playful poems that made us laugh. It was messy, creative, and unforgettable. And somewhere along the way, the magic shifted from mystery to meaning.

Years later, I married a gentle soul who played Santa throughout college simply to bring light into children’s lives. Watching him kneel to meet each child echoed my own childhood: small acts of imagination carrying enormous emotional weight.

Together, we carried that spirit forward. Even without children of our own, we spent years writing letters through USPS Operation Santa. It was deeply fulfilling, and also bittersweet, because the need is so great.

Over time, writing Santa letters for friends became a personal tradition. What surprised me was how much these small, personalized notes mattered. Children read them again and again; parents tucked them away as keepsakes. Those moments showed me that wonder does not require much, only sincerity, intention, and the right words at the right time.

Over time, writing Santa letters for friends became a personal tradition. What surprised me was how much these small, personalized notes mattered. Children read them again and again; parents tucked them away as keepsakes. Those moments showed me that wonder does not require much—only sincerity, intention, and the right words at the right time.

Personalized letters help children feel recognized and valued.
They anchor wonder.
They reinforce hope, kindness, generosity, and the belief that the world can be gentle.

And as children grow older, something remarkable happens:
they don’t lose the magic,
they become its caretakers.

This is how traditions travel across generations.
And that is the heart of The Secret Scribes.

This is not just a Santa letter.
This is the giver’s journey.
Your journey.

It’s the widening of eyes, the hush in the room, the rise of joy and nostalgia when you feel how fleeting these little years truly are.

Every letter I craft is rooted in everything that shaped me, my Caribbean childhood, Sint Nicholas traditions, neighborhood gatherings, poems and cakes, my husband’s years as Santa, and the tenderness and strength of the women who raised me. All of it folds into a belief that real, honest wonder is worth preserving.

Each Letter Package is hand prepared and left unsealed so you, the Secret Giver, can savor it before tucking it away for the perfect moment.

Across the world, families celebrate winter in countless ways, yet each tradition holds the same opportunity: to make a child feel cherished.

That belief became the heart of The Secret Scribes.
I’m grateful you’re here.
Welcome to The Secret Scribes, where the moment begins with you.

¹ USPS Operation Santa: https://www.uspsoperationsanta.com/letters