Myths and Rumors

Welcome to Christmas 2018. If are reading this on Christmas day then you’ve already opened your presents, and the chaotic day has slowed to a comfortable pace. And maybe you thought it was time to go see what is out there on the web, and maybe a story or two to bring a smile to your face. Later in the day a Christmas dinner but for now that’s the future. Now is your time, a few minutes to yourself to enjoy family, the day, and a bit of nostalgia as you remember past Christmases.

As I’ve done, since this blog has existed, I’ve posted, on Christmas day, a short story which is about this time of year. And this year is no different. I actually begin to write these stories at least three months in advance of Christmas day. After all, it takes time, and work of course, to get the story created, and then just right to present. As the title to this post suggests, this is the name of this year’s story. As I stated with Sunday’s post I will give nothing away other than what little I stated in that same post. That way it is fresh and unknown with no expectations. So for your reading pleasure and for Christmas 2018, is Myths and Rumors:

I cannot say what started me on this, well for lack of a better word, quest, (But if I want to be entirely honest that isn’t necessarily true). I’m one who studies and teaches history. Not one who goes on useless and worthless searches. And I really considered this to be one of those. Still, as I sat here by my campfire, under the canopy of the night sky with the stars shining down, and by looking back to where this began I believe that it went something like this: I guess it might have been that night at the local watering hole and being under the influence of that fermented drink that they serve there, I believe again that it was then it most likely happened.

My friends and I were in a deep discussion about many of the myths and rumors of what the past held. One of the main myths stated that there had been an event somewhere before written history that spoke of a disaster of some kind that was to have been on an apocalyptic scale. Personally I’ve never seen any evidence of such. Still such things have a tendency to come up when that fermented drink is being consumed. It leads to passionate discussions, arguments, and, in my case, commitments.

Oh there were other such rumors or myths talking about large cities, the ability to fly, and to cover great distances on land in some type of conveyance that kept one comfortable. Then there was the one dealing with what our distant – very distant – ancestors celebrated every season around the time of the winter solstice. It represented a time of giving and had a name. Well to be honest most myths and rumors do have names attached. Otherwise nobody would know what you’re talking about. Well this myth’s name is Christmas, whatever “a Christmas” is.

My friends would say, “Johnathon Cane you know that there’s always a kernel of truth in those things. You’ve said so yourself, not only here, but when you teach.”

Well, this isn’t something I can deny since it is the truth. But back onto the subject at hand and that myth about this Christmas. It is said that this celebration was so big that there even was a town named Christmas. Well, actually these myths and rumors said that there was more than one. Every time I’d hear those comments I’d end up laughing. “Really?” I’d ask. “Next thing you’ll tell me is you have some wonderful lowlands for sale for a really good price.”

Somewhere along the line a challenge was put forth. I guess it must have been even though I didn’t necessarily remember. The next day I found myself dealing with one huge headache that hurt worse every time I moved. As far as what we had discussed and talked about the previous night, well, once again, it was well beyond my memory. It wasn’t until those same friends, (and I use that term loosely), over the next many days, asked when I would begin my trek to prove that this town of Christmas didn’t even qualify as myth.

I would reply, simply stating that whatever we discussed over the table at our favorite watering hole was to be left there . . . Even though these same myths and rumors had placed one of those towns north and east of us. I stated, “After all, we wouldn’t – couldn’t to be honest – solve the world’s problems, or really know what happened deep in the past before anything was written.” And, to be honest, any conclusions we came to were influenced by what we were drinking anyway.

So, why was I out here then? Why was I out in this wilderness, where only the wild beasts roamed, searching for a myth that most likely was just that and completely unprovable. Well, if I knew the answer I probably wouldn’t be here. Our time’s tracked with sundials and moon cycles, and I had left at the end of winter figuring to return a no later than the end of fall before winter began to turn things white and it being much too cold to be outside.

Judging from the conditions I was now heading into the beginning of summer which meant that over one third of my time on this search was gone and other than getting a nice tan and seeing a lot of country I had nothing to show for it. Heck, I hadn’t even found any sign that anyone had ever lived out here, let alone had traveled in this wilderness. It seemed that even trails were few and far between. In fact in some of the areas the forest grew so thick that one had to find ways around.

If nothing else the experience I continued to gain showed how diverse and beautiful this land was. Someday it might be filled with people, but that someday was many generations down the road of time. And as I sat by my warming and cooking fire before night truly settled in, these thoughts would continue to haunt me . . . Everything that I just talked about and showed you. And I’d continue to consider myself a fool for agreeing to this.

That is until one night after heading inland towards the east and following a somewhat shaky trail which ran through mountains that appeared to be of solid rock. Well, not quite solid since those alpine trees grew there. Still I could see that these mountains were young by their very jagged and rugged nature. There was a river close by that soothed one with the quiet sounds it produced. Since I would normally set up camp just as dusk was approaching, which I had, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

In a sense it had been an introspective day as I looked inward. Of course since I was in the wilderness I had to remain alert to the dangers inherent to such places. I’d more or less been close to this river for some time and it helped provide the food I needed to survive. And before it became dark I had cooked my meal of fish over the open fire. I must admit that it would have been nice to have someone here with me, but alas I was alone.

In retrospect I realize that it was probably stupid but there was little I could do about it. To have someone to assist and to cover one’s back would be the obvious reason. But there are others such as companionship during the trek, as well around the campfires. And then there probably would be the most important. If I actually did find something out here then they would be able to confirm it. And yes, I did find something.

Night had settled in when suddenly ahead and in the distance the sky lit up. With the mountains around me and the trees of course, it was impossible to determine where the light originated. It appeared to be actually somewhere in the forest coming up from the ground. I thought, impossible. This must be my imagination . . . Probably the moon rising or something like that. Yet I realized that we were at the time of the new moon, which meant no moon.

Trying to judge the distance I knew there would be no way for me to make an attempt to move forward in the dark and locate the source of this light. It would have to wait until the light of day. As I stared at this distant light it seemed to draw me, beckoning for me to come and see. It was like the Siren’s call. As I watched that light I realized it was much brighter than even our village put out. It sent chills through me. What possibly existed that might do this? I had no idea and no answers

And the night and surrounding forest remained quiet and peaceful . . .

I found that I slept well and was up before the sunrise. I searched, with my eyes, in the direction that I saw that fantastic light but it had disappeared. So after eating a hearty breakfast I packed and continued down the trail to whatever destiny awaited me.

It approached midday when I finally turned a corner on this almost nonexistent trail when things suddenly changed. No there was no gradual subtle shift from where I was to what I saw before me. It was instant. The trail initially widened and the surface of that same trail shifted from dirt to a hard broken grey-black surface, and then widened significantly. In fact we probably could have placed two carts side-by-side and still had room. It caused me to pause.

“So Johnathon”, I said to no one since as far as I knew I was the only one here, “what’s this all about?” I stood there wondering what this surface was made of but had no answers. One thing for sure it made the hiking so much easier. With the sun directly overhead there was little shadow to reveal much of what lay ahead, so with this easier path I picked up the pace. Soon I’d need to find a place to camp for the night.

Suddenly, and in the distance, I saw what had to be ruins of what I or we of our time would call a village. And this widened path or trail went right down and between those ruins. It left me wondering why and what such a place would be doing here literally in the middle of this virgin forest. Yet from the size it obviously had been thriving when people were here. It only deepened the mystery. I had taken off my pack to rest my shoulders so I picked it up from the ground and put it back on and quietly continued on into this strange and lost place.

It appeared that many of these, well for lack of a better word, shelters had been more than ground level. As if the ones who lived here had learned how to build upwards adding other spaces on top of the ones that were built upon the ground. It was a unique concept. I know that there were suggestions from my time that said such were possible and that it would simply require that the first level be built heavier to support the weight of the second level. But as far as I knew no one had tried.

Yet here before me was proof that it had been tried somewhere deep in the past and was successful and a common practice. So maybe there was truth to many of those myths and we were simply relearning and rediscovering ideas and practices that we had once known and was common knowledge. These thoughts caused me to pause and really look around. Unfortunately this lost village wasn’t close to anything, anybody, or any of the locations where there were a lot of people.

Not being an artist, and not having much to either draw or write upon I’d had to do the best I could with what I had. Unless . . . unless what? Unless somewhere in these ruins I’d be able to find something to use, some scraps of something that’d allow me to do a better job of recording all that was around me. I had the time so there was no need to hurry this. This meant I might do a thorough job of searching these ruins and maybe find out what happened here. Still this dead village couldn’t have been the source of that light I saw in the night. So should I go further to see if I might find that source, or would it behoove me to simply stop here and do a bit of research?

Again that stopped me. In a sense it had been that bright light in the night that had brought me here. And here might be the greater treasure as far as knowledge. That bright light was more a draw bringing forth a strong curiosity and in the end might actually be that Siren’s call drawing one onward never to find the source. Like chasing those images of water in the desert that always retreat.

So I decided to stay here. After all, if I wanted to continue on and search for that source I would most likely have some additional time to do that. So looking at these shelters from the deep past I headed towards one of the closest that was on my left. There happened to be a bench on the outside and so I sat there, carefully since I didn’t know if it would support me or not. And once I was satisfied with its strength I, once again, removed my pack and set it next to me, relaxing and just enjoying the peace, the quiet, the slight breezes that cooled the after zenith air.

The sun felt wonderful. In fact I suspect that I ended up napping as I awoke suddenly and realized half the after zenith had passed and the sun was well on its way to going behind those mountains that I had just passed through. It was time to find somewhere to spend the night. And that meant that I wouldn’t really begin my exploration of this hidden gem until the morrow. One thing for sure, I wouldn’t lack for wood for my campfire.

At first I thought that I’d stay right here in the middle of these ruins, but thought better of it. Who knew what might actually live in these long abandoned and collapsed shelters. So I retraced my steps back outside of this place lost to time and memory. Just outside there seemed to be an open area with nothing around. Simply the natural grasses with the trees off in the distance, leaving it to appear to be a safe place to camp – at least I thought so at the beginning.

So with practiced ease I set up my camp, and since I had a little more time before dusk settled in, I loaded up with wood so I might have a fire all night if I so desired. Looking off in the distance I saw something I could use to sit on, fetched it and faced it in the direction of this unknown village from the deep past.

Being a scholar it piqued my interest and curiosity wanting to know the history of this place, why it was here, and were there other such places close by. Of course there was no way to know, and to be honest I really didn’t have the time. I felt that once I was done exploring this one that I’d head back home letting my friends know that there were places where people had once lived. But I believed that this one I had found was just that, a place where people had lived, and nothing more.

After eating my evening meal, I smiled, as thoughts of what I’d say, briefly entered my mind. I mean, in the end, even if nothing was truly answered I’d gained experience and seen a lot of beautiful country. That alone made this trek worthwhile. I just wish I could have talked another into coming with me. So looking towards where the trees began, with my back to the ruins, as the light faded, and with the end of dusk these same trees disappeared into the darkness, I looked up at the fantastic display of stars in the sky. I have to admit that I never tired of the night sky.

I felt something, heard what sounded like a whoosh, and was struck by a strong wind that briefly swept over the meadow where I was camped. I watched as my fire leaned sharply towards those trees hidden in the darkness and flared higher before settling back down. What’s that, I thought. Turning back towards the source of the wind chills ran up and down my spine and I thought I’d gone crazy. “This is impossible,” I said out loud. I stood there staring. It was as if I grew roots and was unable to move.

These ruins that I had been in earlier this day were no longer ruins. It now was a live and thriving village or town, (as I learned later) lighting up the surrounding night in bright unnatural light. Looking to my right towards that trail I had followed to get here, well, it was no longer a trail. In fact it had become wide and covered in some substance that made it smooth instead of the broken surface that I’d hiked earlier this day. On that trail were strange wheeled . . . well, I don’t know what one would call them. I’d never seen the like.

I stared at these moving things, which had lights of their own that allowed them to see ahead. And the speed at which they moved was shocking. Even the fastest of steeds couldn’t move this fast. And as they approached the town they slowed. This directed my eyes to the village itself and I saw that there were many of these same things, again for lack of a better word, not moving, and seemed to be corralled in areas that were marked with white lines. I wondered if these things were alive, and those lines kept them there.

Then I saw one of the moving things pull into such an open marked area, stop, the lights and noise it was making ended and suddenly people got out of this thing, smiling laughing and conversing. I was seeing many of the myths coming true right before my eyes. It was then I began to hear music drifting with the night breeze, and as my eyes followed the light created by one of those, I guess I would call them mechanical moving things, I saw the sign at the entrance to this place, and it said: WELCOME TO CHRISTMAS TOWN.

I looked up into the sky and saw that same light I had on the previous night and was in awe of the power to produce such brightness. In fact it turned night into day. I found that suddenly I was being drawn towards this town, this place out of time. I wondered, if I did enter, would I be able to leave. I mean I’m from my time, and I saw this place in my time and only dust moved along and through those silent ruins. Not this vibrant and living place. If I entered would I be pulled into their world never to return to mine?

Yet the colors in the light produced, well I’ve never seen the like. I found that unconsciously, like that moth to flame, I had started moving in the direction to the entrance of this, this unbelievable place. As got closer I noticed that the people were dressed strangely. I don’t know how to describe it only that even they wore bright colors that matched the colors of those shining lights. I noticed that many of those same lights seemed to randomly blink off and then light again like the twinkling of the very stars above. How was this accomplished? What magic allowed such brilliance?

I found that I had actually approached to the very edge of this town and then like a shy child stood in the shadows drinking in all the sights, the music, and the very crush of humanity. I have never seen, until this very moment, so many people. Even if we had brought together the many surrounding villages close to where I live, for whatever the reason might be, it still wouldn’t be enough. These observations left me standing there in shock and awe.

It was then that the night breeze brought to me the smells of food cooking, and other such delights. This left me even more confused as I tried to understand how any of this was possible. I know that earlier this day I looked upon this dead “Christmas Town” with questions in my mind asking who had lived here, and why this was so far from anywhere. Yet, if I wasn’t dreaming, this place seemed to have none of the problems that I had associated it with earlier this day – no, none at all.

It was then that I noticed a booth that sat beside the trail those mechanical things moved on. And it was lit just as brightly as each of the shelters. It reminded me of the booths we used during our gathers where we would buy and sell, barter, and contract for services we couldn’t provide for ourselves. It was then that I realized that the one that was in that booth was looking at me. It was kind of a shock. I mean, up until that moment, I really didn’t know if what I was seeing was touchable, or that the ones who seemed to be in that world would see and be able to become part of my world.

With a smile and hand signals he beckoned me to come out of the shadows and come join him there at this particular booth. To say I was uneasy would be an understatement. I still worried about the fact – for which I had no proof either way – that I’d be able to enter this place and then return to my camp later. So with reluctance I slowly approached the booth and came out into the light. If this one was bothered by how I was dressed or where I’d come from there was no sign. In fact he continued to smile simply waiting.

As I did, come into the light that is, I stared at these shelters. They were beautiful, with the white fronts, large glass – yeah real glass – windows. And the amount of wood used to contrast that white made them the more enticing. Still that worry nagged me. This might be a trap. And if it is then I had already fallen under its spell, and was slowly being drawn in.

As I approached the booth I heard the one behind speak. He had a strange accent and some of the words were unfamiliar, yet I understood him perfectly. It was as if we were communicating on a different level, leaving the verbal as a simple support to be sure each understood the other. He said, “Howdy stranger, I’m Terry, and we’ve been expecting you.”

Now if such a statement did anything it did the obvious, sending chills up and down my spine and making the hairs stand up on my arms. “You’ve been expecting me?” I asked.

Here he smiled once again and said, “Yes . . . and no.” Then he shrugged. “What I mean is that we knew that a stranger in clothing different from the times would arrive. You see it was written a long time ago that such would be the case. I suspect there’s even a name – your name – attached. But, to be honest, it has been awhile since I’ve read it, and there’s been much that has happened since I last read it. Still all who live here know of it.” He canted his head to the side with that slight smile that showed curiosity before continuing.

“Now I know that you might consider this a trap of some sort. If what we have written is accurate then you are from our future, and we deep in your past . . . Meaning that if either I, or you move to the other’s position then we might never be able to return to our own time, remaining forever out of time, living in a place that we would probably never understand. Yet the truth is even stranger than that. Believe it or not this only happens – this shift in time – once a year. I know that a few days before the town arrives, wherever and whenever in time it will, that a bright light will light up the night sky – sort of a beacon to bring the chosen one here.

“Now I don’t know if you measure time the way we do but I’m sure that you do measure time. It might be by the seasons, or the cycles of the moon, or in many other ways.” Terry pointed over to the sign that stated, Christmas Town. “You see even this only exists for the last part of the year and as we approach the day of Christmas, then and only then does this shift in time happen. Call it magic, call it whatever you want or like, yet it happens. Whatever led to this is unknown, (there are thoughts on this), but whatever it is it does happen and we seem to arrive for a short period of time, somewhere in time, revealing our town to whoever happens to be here. And this time, stranger, it is you.

“It is always one person, and what is written always has one change. That change being the name of the person this is revealed to.” Here he laughed. “I guess it’s another reason not to remember the name that is written since it seems to magically change. Anyway Christmas has much myth attached to it. You will have a chance to experience much of what it is about during your night here. Still, and here I must warn you, once you find yourself back in your camp, nothing of this place will be with you . . . well, maybe something, but what will remain will be something only you will see and know.”

He now leaned on the counter that was part of the booth and asked, “So stranger, are you ready to come in and experience what your distant ancestors enjoyed? The joy, the celebration, the peace, the food – yes how can I forget about the food – and the gift giving that is all part of the celebration.”

What can I say? I mean what could I say; he had answered all my questions even though I hadn’t asked them. I felt a need to cross that line, to see what this town had to show me. So I answered, “Sure.” I had to admit that those twinkling bright lights were drawing me in and I wanted, honestly wanted, to see all of what was here before me. And I hoped that this Terry hadn’t lied and that when I awoke the following day that I’d be in my camp.

Terry smiled once again and signaled for a girl, who had to be somewhere between ten and twelve, and at the same time he handed me something that was on a chain. “She is Samantha, and she will be your guide throughout your time here. For you see this time is actually more for the children than adults, and this you will wear around your neck so all can see and know who you are. It allows everything you do here tonight to be at no cost to you.” Once again he laughed. “After all, you do not have what we use to purchase stuff anyway.” He then signaled for the two of us to get together, bowed, and pointed in the direction of the town saying with meaning, “Merry Christmas.”

Samantha smiled and said, “Welcome Mr. Cane.”

I know that he had stated that they knew who would arrive but I had thought this to be impossible. Yet without hesitation she had stated it. I looked at her with questions in my eyes and she looked down somewhat shyly before looking back into my eyes. I think that she knew what I was thinking and questioning. But did I dare ask since I had already been told? She reached up and took my hand and asked, “Shall we go? Our time here is limited and before you know it this will be only a memory with nothing to prove otherwise.”

She sounded old for her age. I wouldn’t have expected such a statement from one so young. And maybe that was exactly why she had been chosen. Anyway I nodded and she led me into this town. How can I describe what I saw and experienced? We went into most of the – as she called them buildings and stores – shelters that were here. I found that they were decorated just as brightly inside as out. And by being with this young girl and the medallion I wore around my neck I was able to sample much of the foods, and was given many small trinkets.

Each time we’d return to the street, and this was what she called it, not the trail as I would have known it, I’d stare at those wonderful strings of colorful twinkling lights that seemed to be around anything that that was above the ground – even the trees. And it seemed that the trees got special attention with brightly colored balls made of glass reflecting the very light that made it appear that the very stars from the night sky and been plucked and placed here for our pleasure.

The music, what can I say, it was surrounding us and she said that this was special music for this time of the year – again this was their way of measuring time. I was shown that book and there written within was a description of this night moving out of the flow of time and when I read my name written there, it literally took my breath away. How is such possible? I mean I had never been here, so how is it possible? No! Inside I thought, it cannot be, so I must be dreaming.

I learned that this came about because of a dying child sometime in their past and when this day arrived and the child has passed on to wherever we go after death something magical happened and this day became a day out of time moving for those hours during this special day to whenever it was deemed this Christmas Town would go. Who knows, it may have been the child’s dying wish. It was to be a gift for all time, and for the ones visiting it from the outside in their time nothing would be out of the ordinary. They’d arrive enjoy their visit here and return to their homes none the wiser to this other event, this unbelievable visit involving me, which was happening at the same time.

I saw excitement growing within this child and finally as the hours drew near to midnight she grabbed my hand and with some impatience pulled me back out to the street. Looking down at her I saw a big happy smile. She looked up and said, “It is time for the arrival of Santa Claus. Many consider him a myth but we know better.”

“So who is this Santa Claus?”

She smiled again at such ignorance. “He brings gifts and small treasures and leaves them under the decorated trees in the homes for the children. This is why this time of year is considered special for us.” Here she laughed, “After all, for a little longer I still am a child and it is a very special time for us as well as everyone.”

So we stood on what she called a sidewalk and waited as most of the people who were here. And speaking of people again I have never seen so many in one place or so many waiting for something that had this crowd almost breathless. Not knowing all I could do was wait. Then in the distance I saw a strange sight. Down that street came what could only be called a sled, something she called a sleigh, being pulled by what she named as reindeer – eight to be exact. In that sleigh was a man who had a white beard and was dressed in red. As the sleigh came closer it was obvious he wasn’t a small person.

Everyone cheered as he came abreast of them and there seemed to be smaller individuals with him that were tossing, out to the crowd, what appeared to be sweets of some kind. As this thing pulled even to the two of us the sleigh stopped and this Santa Claus looked directly at me. At that moment silence dominated this town. He smiled at me saying, “Welcome Johnathon Cane!” I was too shocked to respond, and after a nervous moment I bowed to him and he smiled and returned the gesture.

At that moment a cheer went out and the sleigh moved on down the street and in the distance turned a corner and was out of sight. At this moment Samantha grabbed my hand and began pulling me in the direction that this Santa Claus had gone. “Come on, we must go to where he will stop. While his time here will be short, since it is Christmas Eve, he will still stop long enough to give many here gifts.”

So with some reluctance I let her lead me. Shortly we were in an area that had to be the middle of this town. There was a huge tree in the center decorated just as extravagantly as the smaller ones I saw throughout this town. And I saw most of the people standing in a large circle which opened up when we approached. There was a breathless silence, one that spoke of anticipation . . . Of what I didn’t know.

Suddenly I realized that all eyes were on the two of us including this Santa Claus. He was sitting in a large chair and with that smile of his he motioned for me to come forward. I looked down at Samantha and together we approached him. There seemed to be such a peacefulness attached to him. He cocked his head sideways for a moment as if in thought. Then he said, “Johnathon Cane, you’ve been given a gift. Not one that can be placed in your pocket, or placed for display in your shelter, but one of the mind. You are a teacher and one who studies the past.

“So here before you is a taste of that very past. When you wake tomorrow you will still be near the ruins of this place, and you will wonder if you simply dreamed this.” He laughed, “Well, who am I to say it isn’t a dream? After all isn’t a dream simply another reality? When we are in a dream does it not seem real? And only upon waking do we know the difference.

“From what you’ve learned, studied, and yes even taught nothing would have shown you this. It is just for you.” He then had Samantha and me of course stand on either side of him and suddenly I was blinded by flashes of light. At that moment Samantha led me away leaving me unsettled by what this one had passed on and said to me. I knew I’d have to think long and hard about this night.

As we left I saw others lining up to see Santa Claus. And with most of the crowds here to see him the rest of Christmas Town seemed somewhat subdued and quiet. It was then I heard a bell ringing and I subconsciously counted the tones until I reached eleven and as the twelfth struck I was no longer in the town but back in my camp with the sun beginning to rise.

I thought, wow what a dream. I now looked toward those ruins with different eyes, and later that day when I explored them I was able to locate every place I had visited in that dream – if indeed it was a dream. It was then on the last day before I began my trek home that I found, in an inside pocket, a scrap of stiff paper. When I pulled it out wondering where this had come from I stopped. “No, no, this is impossible. What I saw and experienced had to be a dream!” Yet in my hand was proof that maybe it wasn’t and had been real. What was on that stiff paper was a small image with me, the man in red, and Samantha staring out. Both of them were waving and smiling with me standing there trying to understand.

I sat down in shock, thinking that this can’t be real. I turned it over and there on the back were these simple words:

Merry Christmas – Santa

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Two Days to Christmas

Yes, it’s two days to Christmas and if at nine days the young ones were excited, now it’s probably close to impossible for them to “settle down”. It is the anticipation, and the mystery, and of course that personal greed we all have, but not in a bad way. It is because we know that what is under that tree is meant for us and is given to us as a gift wth no strings attached.

Yes Christmas morning is almost in reach with the excitement and magic. Yet the children must get past Christmas eve, a time when many families visit other family members, or attend a candle light service in anticipation of what this day truly represents. Of course what I speak of here is the way Christmas is celebrated here in the US. And with this post I will link to a YouTube video that does a wonderful job of showing us exactly what Christmas is really all about.

And, of course, I do have that brand new Christmas short story to unwrap on Christmas day. This year it is simply a fun little story which will leave the protagonist wondering what is real. And this will be all I will say, which is more than I have in the past. To find out you will have to come back Tuesday or Christmas morning.

And now onto the YouTube video, and as with many it does have an ad leading into the video. So suffer through as the video is well worth watching:

https://fdbrant.godaddysites.com

Published in: on December 23, 2018 at 10:44 am  Leave a Comment  
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Sixteen Days to Christmas

As we approach Christmas day, and the day when I will present my annual short Christmas story, I thought I’d link back to one each week. This week I’ll link to one of my personal favorites, And it Came To Pass. This one and the one I’ll link to next week are Christian based stories. And to be honest Christmas itself is a Christian holiday. Still each country has their own way of celebrating the season and as such the traditions and the way of celebrating this time of year will be different. So these short stories are based on the way it is celebrated here in the US.

Of course all the Christmas short stories up through 2017 are available in the short story novel, Words in the Wind. Available in paperback and the Ebook format. Enjoy! and may this time of year be memorable:

https://windmillsmetaphor4writing.wordpress.com/2014/12/27/and-it-came-to-pass/

https://fdbrant.godaddysites.com/

 

Published in: on December 9, 2018 at 10:57 am  Leave a Comment  
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Last Quarter, and Discussing Short Stories Too

Well, here we are entering the last quarter of 2018. It really seems like a short time ago 2017 ended and we had just entered 2018. Yet, here we are. For me days, weeks, months, and yes even years move along much too fast. I believe this may be the result of living for sixty nine years. When we are young, and here I’m referring to when we are five or six – about the time when we can remember some of our past – time seems to drag, and the years seem to be really long.

I believe that’s because of the ratio of the number of days to the number of years we’ve been around. Comparing that to now it seems that my days heading into the past go on forever. Even though that’s not true. Those days are as finite as I am. Those days (25,185, at the time I write this) do say that I’ve lived most of my time given to me. Fortunately I do come from a long lived family so my chances are good that I should live into my nineties. In fact my mother is ninety-three and still sharp as a tack as they say.

Still we are winding down this year and soon it will be placed in the books as all the years before this one. And being that it is this time of year it means that I’ve begun to work on this year’s Christmas short story. I’ve found in the last couple of years that coming up with one hasn’t been easy. In fact until recently I didn’t have a clue as to what I’d write about. Fortunately something did come along and I’m well into the first draft. And no, I haven’t finished the story as of yet., but will soon. Truthfully I have to, as it will need to be revised and edited a number of times before it will actually become more than words on the page and be ready for prime time. And yes it will be different from the others I presented over time here on this blog, and in the book of short stories, Words in the Wind.

For any who are still with me, you now know that I’ve dropped my posts down to once a month instead of weekly. Still a number of you are recent followers and there is a lot of material in the archives. This blog came into existence in 2011, and while that seems like yesterday  to me, it’s quite a few years ago. And as both this blog and I age the frequency of posts will reflect that fact. This year I had thought of possibly writing another Halloween short story, but unless some inspiration strikes me, most likely it will not happen. Here in the USA it the time, at the end of October, for Halloween, followed by Thanksgiving on the third Thursday in the month of November, and we end the year with Christmas. Then suddenly one week later we begin another year.

For me it’s hard to believe that we are down to the last three months of the year with fall here and winter coming on strong. And in the area where I live that means lots of gray, cold days and nights with lots of rain. Cabin fever would be something easy to catch when it’s just too miserable to go outside. In fact, as I write this, it’s raining now. Still it’s a time for writing, and I still have two novels to complete. I’m happy where I am as I surpassed my original goal of eight novels, and then reached my next goal of ten with the recent release of “Words in the Wind, a book of short stories”.

We are entering the time of year where family becomes more important, as well as our friends. Nostalgia is also strong as our own memories flow back to our own past and of growing up. Enjoy the romanticism of these memories for we all have a tendency to remember the good times, and leave those bad times behind knowing that, many times, we do learn from them. God Bless! (https://fdbrant.godaddysites.com/)

 

A Christmas Day Wish

God Bless all! It is the time of family, of remembrances, of watching the magic in the eyes of children as they anticipate Christmas morning. It is the traditional time to celebrate the birth of Christ and all that this event represents. It is the reason for the gift giving, for all the traditions that have developed over time, from Christmas trees, to St Nick. And the gift giving is also a representation of the Gift God gave to us that first Christmas.

May this time of year be one of love, joy, and peace. And may the new year, which is only a week away, be one of promise. Again, God Bless! And I’ll close this with a link to a Christmas song from the Piano Guys. F. D. Brant (https://fdbrant.godaddysites.com/)

 

A Celebration of Life

At the beginning of February we joined family and friends in the celebration of life for one who has passed away. It is during such celebrations that one learns, from the many who knew them, who and what this person represented to each individually, and how many lives she touched. (And one thing that became clear is that she really loved people.) For us as we go through our lives this is something we really don’t think much about. Here I mean the influences we may have left on individuals be it positive or negative. And here in such a setting we begin to see just who the one who passed away was and the many she did touch. If we think about it we play many roles during our lives. First off it is as a child having to deal with our parents and siblings – let alone that bully down the street. Then from that time on these roles grow to cover the many different aspects that is us. And many times at such ceremonies we learn about a different side or aspect of the one who has moved on that we were never aware of, and can be surprised by what is revealed. It is important to remember that for most of us those influences we leave behind are generally unknown to us, and sometimes these influences are seen from afar leaving us with no idea that we’ve left this legacy behind.

I believe that a little background is necessary, especially from one who came into this family from the outside. In other words I married into this family, as my wife married into mine. Still with her family, whenever family gatherings were held it would be at her brother’s home. And his wife Pam would be gracious, always smiling as the hoards would descend upon her home and chaos would reign supreme. So it became a tradition, and they had a pool, so the children loved to go there since they could swim to their heart’s content. Pam would interact with all of us, with that infectious smile of hers, and she always seemed to have a good word for any and all who would invade her home – in a good way of course. So we would always have fond memories of our time spent there.

What is it that makes a person this way? In many ways to find the answer is beyond me. If we had more like this woman, then there would be less strife, less commotion, less ill feelings, probably less demands, and maybe in the end a better world because of it. She, like the untold millions, will never be remembered beyond her family and friends, leaves a legacy that will be hard to follow or to live up to. No she’s not an angel or is she a perfect individual. Still what she had would give any of us a lofty goal to attain.

While this isn’t true of all men, most of us want to protect our women, and strive to do so. If we honestly think about it, because of the demands of the modern world, this protection is more of an illusion than fact. Because it requires both individuals in a relationship to work, it means a good portion of any day we are separated from our mates and then they are beyond that protection we want to provide. Still as the years pass by us, much too fast to be honest, we reach a point in our lives that we know that one of us will pass on before the other.

And if anything, the statistics show that it is the fact that women generally outlive men. So we, as men, try to make sure that if we are the first to pass on we leave our spouses in such a way that they won’t have to depend on others to make it through the day-to-day routine, and much of what is required will be taken care of and provided. And because her husband Dan, my brother-in-law, had almost died from the very same cancer years earlier, he felt – no, he knew he’d pass before she did. Only to learn, after doing everything necessary to make her time alone after he passed on, easy, it was not to be. It was discovered that she had a GBM, and it was already stage four. And two months later it took her life.

What can one say? What can one do? When all you have planned for, with the reality that you face knowing that it is you who will leave first only to learn you are completely wrong. Now it is he who is sitting in that lonely home after more than half a century of being together. How does one reconcile such a loss? At least for Dan, he has a loving family, and a rather large group of friends, who will continue to check in on him and assist him in his needs. And at times his home will be filled with the joy and laughter of his grandchildren – a blessing in itself. Yet on the other side of all of this will be the times when he will be alone, which are the toughest of all.

You see, when he learned of his cancer, none of his sons were married and if things held true he would not live to see any of his future grandchildren. And then within ten months all three were married, and as is the norm each added to the extended family, and he was able to enjoy those grandchildren. He was given the gift of seeing the future of his family, and the daughters-in-laws who joined his loving family. Since the cancer he has usually means that within two months he would succumb to the disease, in truth it is a miracle he’s still with us. In fact during the time of discovering the GBM he “flat-lined”. Yet here he is over six years later. Yes, all of us know that in the end it will take him for it is the nature of a GBM. It can only be suppressed and will return to finish what it started. There is no cure.

This leads one to think about the home they were living in as a loving couple and a family for all those wonderful years together. Any of us can relate to the fact that when we enter into someone’s home we can immediately sense the influences of the ones living there. Some homes invite you in making you immediately comfortable, and others leave you with the impression that the sooner one can leave the better. Theirs definitely is the former.

In the past I wrote a post dealing with a home, and how it goes through stages until sometime in its future it is replaced with something else. I looked at this from the point of view that when someone lives in that home it becomes a personal representation of them. And when you come to visit their history is there for you to see. And you know the warmth, the friendliness, and the love that is there. And I can say it is definitely here in their home. Still, sometime in the near future it will become empty as his time comes to an end as all of ours will someday.

Then, as family descends upon that home, with so many good and happy memories, slowly, as it is emptied of those keepsakes from the past, it will transform from a home to just a house, becoming vacant with nothing to remind any of all that has happened within its walls. Nothing to talk to any of the love, and joy that was there. No history of the past. At this point it becomes a blank slate waiting for a new family, and new memories to created. We all know it as the circle of life.

So what can really be said here other than the fact that we will see this happening right here in their loving home. When we are in the present, and we all live in the present, even with our ability to remember our past and attempt to see our future, this is something that is furthest from our minds. We love the time together as a loving couple, as a family and with friends. And at those special times we let the future become what it may. And then suddenly that future is the reality we are facing, and you see your loved one pass on ahead of you. And in most cases it is much too soon. Yet, in the end, all of us are only given so much time here. And the lesson we should take away from all of this is the fact that the most precious commodity we have, and we seem to do a great job of wasting it, is time. From what little I knew of her, Pam, like the rest of us, probably did waste a lot of time, but in the end before her time ended, she saw her children grow into responsible loving adults, and she absolutely loved her extended family and the growing family filling her home with the laughter of her grandchildren. And from her interaction, with that infectious smile, she held every one of these young lives in her loving arms. What will those same grandchildren’s memories of her be, well only they can say. Still from the images left for the future generations I’m sure it will be fond loving memories of their grandmother.

In this we cannot forget the adding of three women to the family, which had to be a nice addition for Pam since she had been surrounded by four males making her the minority. So to finally balance it out had to be wonderful for her. To have other women who became family must have filled her heart with joy. And for her the transition seemed effortless. Still, from what I can determine even towards the end you could see the love she had for her family.

And in the end we, in our time, will follow a similar path leaving memories of us with our family and friends. I guess the obvious question here is this: What will those memories of any of us be when it is our time? It is said that we die twice. The first time is our physical passing, and the second is when all who knew and loved us have joined us. At that point there is no one to remember or to know who we were. May it be for Pam, and Dan – when his time comes – that this second one will be a long time in the future. They truly deserve these loving memories. God Bless!

Published in: on March 25, 2017 at 7:22 am  Leave a Comment  
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A Personal Tragedy

Before beginning this week’s post I’d like the mention that the book, Unexpected, Unplanned, and into the Unknown, has been released to Amazon Scout. Here readers have a chance to read an excerpt and rate the story. If enough are positive then Amazon will publish it under their own label. Here is the link, if any are interested please check it out. https://kindlescout.amazon.com/p/QINQQURWHJS3

With this title, A Personal Tragedy, one would think that it refers to something that happened to me personally, but this tragedy was something I witnessed which took place over a period of time. At the time of the incident and what followed I worked in a small rural community. In these places people have a tendency to know each other, and if you are one who works in one of the businesses one has a chance to meet everyone. It isn’t unusual to find unlocked doors, and people always willing to help others in the community. In a sense my book “The Woman in the Snow” reflects this kind of committment that is common in these communities.

If we want to be honest, somewhere in our lifetime we will either be a part of a tragedy, be a witness to one, or know someone who had a tragic incident in their own lives. Many times these tragedies involve death bringing to us the truth that none of us get out of this world alive. I know as a child I thought it would be nice to know when one would die, after all it did seem like it was important. With as much life behind me as I’ve had (and it’s been said many times, time is precious) I now disagree. If we know when, we would never accomplish what we do in our lives with that final date staying in the forefront and dominating our thoughts.

Overall the community had a mix of people, with many living here being retired. Others commuted to work into the larger communities to the west, and a few actually worked the land. This meant we have farmers, ranchers, young families, older families, many singles, and retirees. Very similar to any community be it large or small. Mostly everybody got along. Still in such a setting there were issues, and many times such issues were large enough to polarize the community. Still overall it was no different than any of the small communities (or large ones) that exist in this country.

For a period of time we even had a small local newspaper, but eventually it disappeared and is no more. If one was driving the road that went through the main part of town, the town would be easy to miss. It had gates to many of the ranches, and if you were driving east the first building that would mark that you might be entering a rural community was the fire department – a simple volunteer unit. Then for a short time there would be nothing. The next one to show would be the Post Office followed by a combination restaurant and grocery store, and across from this would be a state fire station. Once past these you would be heading out of town and on to whatever your destination would be. In others words, if you blinked you’d miss it completely.

Yet, if you had turned off onto the one main road back into the community you would find a library, the local school and the many roads that led to where most lived. It was back in this area where the tragedy took place. For any of us who are from such areas there really is much that happens that is never heard about outside of the community. That doesn’t mean it has less of an impact or doesn’t influence those who are involved, because it does. It is no more or no less important for any who happen to live in the largest cities in this nation where such could be reported.

Part of the draw for those who are looking for more than cities provide is the freedom and openess of the lands. It, over all, is a harder lifestyle, and not all can live it. Many need to be surrounded by people to feel safe and secure while others feel less people the better. I have seen some who have moved into these rural communities from the cities and only after a few months run screaming back to the crowds, swearing they’d never return.

A young family lived back on one of the dirt roads and their son was out riding the family’s ATV, after receiving permission to do so. As most kids who have something powerful at their control he was going too fast down the dirt road he was traveling and ran into another vehicle coming from the opposite direction. It killed him and threw the family into turmoil, which is no surprise. After all it is said, and for good reason, “No parent should outlive their child”.

Statistics say that the loss of a child can lead to the breakup of the parents. And unfortunately it did in this case. I was friends with both of them and shared in their tragedy. They tried to keep it together but the “what if’s”, the blame game, and so many other factors that were never revealed eventually led to their breakup. In many ways in this world of failed marriages no one would look at another one and consider the whys. “Just move on”, would be stated. “After all there are many out there who would love to share your life.”

Maybe so, but if this tragedy ended here, then maybe we could say, after the healing, if such is possible, that they moved on and found others to replace their loss. Still in this situation such didn’t take place. As far as the woman she eventually left the community and nothing was ever heard from her again.

And before I continue I have to mention another similar tragedy that happened in the same community. In this case the child was an adult and actually had been in the Navy. Driving home one night he crashed his vehicle and died from the injuries. The mother had difficulty dealing with the tragedy, which is completely understandable. Eventually the area brought too many bad memories and she moved away only to continue to fight the demons she faced. Any of us who face similar situations may try and find such a solution. The major problem with this is the fact we cannot run away from us. It is we who carry the emotions, the history, the memories, and a change of location will not change what is part of us. Until we can learn to deal with ourselves we will not escape our situation or problems.

Back to the ones we are following: Eventually he moved away but his life turned self-destructive. From a promising future, to the loss of his son, to the break up of his marriage, it all left scars he couldn’t cope with. He changed jobs, became involved with a series of flings, and somewhere along his personal timeline couldn’t deal with what happened and took his own life. In a sense this enlarged the original tragedy.

So they went from a loving family and in a short period of time back to only one with death taking two of them. Could any of this been prevented? I’m sure the two of them asked themselves that too many times to count when they learned of the death of their son. And I’m sure the blame game became prominent. Still the point we all must face is that our lives can change in an instant. And from that point on what we face and the direction of our lives is forever changed. Yes we can look back and wish and hope that things could be different but none of us can go back and change the past.

All of us are stuck with what we have in our present, and if it wasn’t the direction we had planned, or had set goals to reach, then we must adjust or like him give up and die. We are only given one chance, one life to live. And many times what we are given is difficult, and at times seems impossible. And while we may never face such a tragedy in our lives, that doesn’t mean we won’t face some type of hardship. All of us have setbacks, and all of us have unexpected events that change us forever. In the end it is what we do with these events that will define who we are. God Bless! (www.fdbrant.com)

Time Shared, Time Lost

Once again before I present this year’s Christmas story, and as I have done all month, I’m linking back to past stories. This one is from 2014. And I’ll be presenting two links. One for the story titled, And It Came To Pass, and the second a personal wish for this time of year, and of course this was for 2014. If this is the first time here and you are interested in reading the other Christmas stories you can find them in the sidebar on the right under December 2015. Each link is presented at the beginning of the post for that week: https://windmillsmetaphor4writing.wordpress.com/2014/12/27/and-it-came-to-pass/ , https://windmillsmetaphor4writing.wordpress.com/2014/12/25/a-christmas-wish/

In my short stories of Christmas I try to present different views, lives, and directions instead of the traditional “feel good” story. Because not all have what we have or will this season go as planned or desired. These stories are written to remind us that others may be in situations that do not allow them to appreciate or enjoy what this season represents. And many times because we have loving families and friends it is easy to overlook these other situations or worlds. And we forget how fragile our way of life is, and because of this have a tendency to take it for granted. When we do these things it can trivialize what we truly have and our personal blessings.

This year’s Christmas story is from the perspective of a five-year old. In a way it is funny for me to try to see the world from one so young. After all it was sixty-one years ago when I was five. Could I have used grandchildren for inspiration? No not really as the two we have are grown, and are adults. When they were young we had no contact with them since our daughter and her husband lived across the country from us. Yet, is this not part of writing? As a writer putting one’s self in the shoes of your characters and seeing the world from their perspective? So I guess the obvious question would be: What do you remember of that time in your own life, unless, of course you are five. And for your enjoyment is, Time Shared, Time lost:

A few months ago she had turned five. Five! Who’d have thought she’d be so big? Not her for sure. And while it had been a great birthday party with many of her friends, in the end, the day went too fast and he didn’t show up. Carie looked up at the big calendar. While she had learned to count, it was still hard to do. Still with mama’s help she knew that Christmas was only a few days away. And she could feel the excitement building inside. She really hoped she had been good enough to get those wonderful presents from Santa Claus. Yet, if she wanted to be honest with herself, things hadn’t been going well. And she knew that while she had tried to be good all the time, well, sometimes things just seemed to go wrong.

She had been four when all had changed. She remembered daddy all full of energy and getting ready to leave on one of his trips. She always missed him when he took those trips. Still with what they had they could talk over the computer, (such a big word) and she could see him like he was on TV, which helped keep the loneliness away. She could tell that mama didn’t like to see him go either, but it had been explained to her that this was part of his job. It was a job that took him away from them much too much. In a sense she hated that job. After all he needed to be here for her, and especially mama. She could see how much mama needed daddy even though much of what they talked about she didn’t understand. All they would say to her was “Someday you’ll understand”. Well, she’d really like to understand now. No, not those grownup things she’d overhear now and then, but “why”? Why wasn’t he here? Why things had changed and they were no longer living in that nice house with the really big yard. And why had most of the nice things gone away? And mostly why was mama sad most of the time?

She had to admit that she was too. She had tried to help, but being so young, (she’d heard that word a lot) she didn’t know what to do. So at times she’d crawl into mama’s lap and hold on tight. Many times she’d fall asleep because it was so comforting and nice there. And she had to admit she felt safe there too. Maybe mama felt safe too when they were together this way. Looking out the window she could see the snow beginning to fall. The house, part of a duplex she had been told – whatever that was, was cold. Not freezing, but one had to wear jackets in the house. Jackets in the house, really, she always thought they were for when she went outside. She had complained, but mama had explained they didn’t have the money to be able to keep it as warm as they would like. So blankets and heavy clothing became the rule. It made it difficult when one had to really go – so many layers that had to be removed. Still one learned not to wait too long, reducing those embarrassing accidents.

She sighed wishing for some hot chocolate with marshmallows, but it was something she rarely had now – again, that money thing. “Would you like to go out and play in the snow?”

Carie hadn’t realized that mama was standing behind her watching her look out the window. Yes it would be fun, but they had moved here only a short time ago and her friends were far away and she hadn’t made any new ones yet. She shook her head, while smiling. “No . . . no, I’m good.”

“If you change your mind let me know, okay?”

She had to admit it was tempting. It was always fun to go out and make snow angels, to catch snowflakes on one’s tongue, to try to build snowmen, but there had always been a warm house to go back to once one became cold. She was cold enough here inside. So she continued to look out and imagine how it would be. She heard her mother withdraw, and soon heard her doing something in the kitchen. The kitchen was something else that had gotten smaller as well as her bedroom and every room in this house. And there were times they could hear their neighbors through the walls. When she first heard them she was surprised, but now she was used to it. Part of the changes since daddy hadn’t come home, hadn’t come back to them.

She remembered the day when a stranger showed up at the door and could sense the dread from mama. Mama opened the door, and after a brief conversation with the stranger slowly closed the door, stood there with her head against it, and began to cry. She didn’t understand. What had the stranger done to do this to mama? She had gone up to her and grabbed her leg trying to get her attention, but it hadn’t worked. It was later she learned that the plane daddy had been flying had disappeared, and no one had been able to find it so far. If something wasn’t found soon, the searches would be called off. And nobody knew if he had survived the crash or not. So daddy was considered lost. She wondered how a grownup could be lost. It made no sense to her. Maybe it was like when they would be driving around and mama would tell daddy to ask for directions and daddy would say while smiling, “I’m okay, we’re not lost”.

That first Christmas after daddy “becoming lost” had been really really sad and hard for both of them. But another was approaching and while she hoped for some really nice things what she wanted was for mama not to be sad, and for daddy to come home to the two of them. She knew that both of them had prayed for that to happen last Christmas. Yet here they were alone with each other. Not that she wasn’t close to mama, it was, just that they seemed, well, not whole, not complete, (another of those big words that she thought she understood). Like part of them was missing or broken and couldn’t be fixed. She needed daddy, and she knew in her heart that mama did even more. So once again every night with her prayers she asked God to bring daddy home to them so they could be fixed, and be happy once again. Yet, for all of her prayers there had only been silence.

She wondered if it was her fault. Maybe she wasn’t asking right. Or maybe she had unknowingly done something wrong. She didn’t know, and she didn’t have any answers. So she continued to pray at night before climbing into bed hoping God, as busy as he must be, would hear her desperate prayers and answer them. It would be so nice, so wonderful to see him come back through their front door once again. She then worried, because they were no longer where they used to live that if daddy did come back he’d not know where they were. So she added that to her prayers that when God answered her prayers God would lead daddy back to them.

The days moved past faster than she expected and suddenly it was Christmas Eve. She and mama went to visit her grandparents, and while there she saw many of her aunts and uncles, with her cousins. She had to admit she didn’t know anything about family relationships, or how she was a part of this boisterous, (Even though she wasn’t sure if she really knew what that word meant.) group of people. Still the house was warm, the food great, and the games she and her cousins played made the time go fast. And yes before they left everyone had a gift to open. Most of the time, she had to admit, she was disappointed with what she got from her grandparents. It was always clothes or something similar. What she really wanted was a toy or something she could play with. At least she had fun with others around her age. Yeah there were older cousins, and she had to admit that many times they could be bossy and mean. Eventually it was time to go home. And even though she didn’t want to say or think it she was tired.

Somewhere during the drive home, as she stared out the windshield, (She couldn’t see over the front of the car so she was always looking up into the sky.) watching the falling snow, hearing the steady sound of the motor, and the warmth of the car, she fell asleep. She really hadn’t wanted to but it wasn’t the first time, and she doubted it would be the last. In the distance she felt the car stop, and the motor stopped, leaving only silence. Still half asleep she felt the cold air when mama opened the door and immediately closed it. She heard mama as she crunched through the snow, coming around to her side of the car, and felt herself being lifted by loving arms. Drowsily she smiled at the loving face looking down at her and put her arms around her. The next thing she remembered was mama undressing her and putting her in her night-clothes. She was asked if she needed to go to the bathroom. She shook her head, and felt herself being put into her bed. She was barely awake. Still she remembered the covers being drawn over her and once again smiled. Christmas was tomorrow, and that was all she remembered as she fell into a deep sleep. Yes she did remember mama saying, “Sweet dreams”, before leaving her room, and that was it.

Sometimes, close to morning, she’d have to get up and go to the bathroom. This was one of those times. Maybe she should have gone before bed. But she had been so comfortable, so tired, it just seemed like too much effort. So now she paid for it. More asleep than awake she took care of business and headed back to her room, and her warm bed. On the way she thought she heard voices from mama’s room, but knew that now and then mama watched TV, and figured it must be what she was hearing. Back in her room she glanced outside and it was still dark. She shrugged, climbed back into the warm bed, and was asleep almost instantly – whatever she heard forgotten. Morning, and Christmas wasn’t too far off, but for now sleep was more important. She burrowed deeper under those covers feeling the warmth and comfort. She smiled in her dreams and anticipation of what waited for her under the tree, even though it was a small one.

Suddenly she was awake and excitement filled her. She glanced out the window and could see the gray of dawn and knew it was Christmas morning. She threw off the covers and immediately regretted it as she shivered from the cold. At least the pajamas had footsies so her feet wouldn’t get cold. She grabbed her jacket, and quietly, since she figured mama had to be still asleep – what’s with that really – snuck out to the living room where the tree was. “After all”, she asked herself, “it’s Christmas and who can sleep on such an important morning?” She knew she could go look, and she would, of course, pick up the brightly wrapped gifts and see if she could guess what was inside, but knew she would have to wait until mama came out to join her. The waiting seemed like a lifetime as those gifts begged to be opened, begged to become hers.

She heard the coffee maker start and smelled the wonderful smell of fresh coffee being brewed. She had begged, at one time, to taste coffee, and like the vanilla flavoring which smelled so good, she learned that it didn’t taste anything like it smelled. This was something she’d never understand. How could it be that way? Didn’t the way something smelled mean that how it should taste? Anyway, this meant that shortly mama should be getting up and they could open these wonderful gifts together. She glanced out the front window as it became light enough to see outside, and could see that another layer of fresh snow had been added and there were no tracks in it making the world look new.

She turned in anticipation when she heard movement coming from mama’s room and went over to sit on the couch eager to get on to the next part of this wonderful morning. And to her unbelieving eyes, and such a wonderful gift and surprise, daddy walked out the bedroom with a huge smile. “Hello munchkin”. He held out his arms to her which she gladly ran to as she screamed, “Daddy”, hugging him so tight and almost afraid to let go, God does answer prayers, she thought as she watched mama come out next. Now they were a family once again. Now they were fixed. And as she put her head on daddy’s shoulder and as he carried her to the couch, she thought, It really is the bestest Christmas ever.

* * *

I truly hope your Christmas has been wonderful. It is important to remember the reason for the season and why gift giving is such a large part of what it is. Yes commercialism has taken control, as has the fictional stories, those traditional ones of Santa, and Rudolph. Still if the gift given to mankind over 2000 years ago hadn’t happened then what we celebrate now wouldn’t exist. Take time to look back, and to understand what this truly represents and means to each and every one of us personally – God Bless! (fdbrant.com)

A Christmas Wish for 2015

Last year for the first time I linked a video for this important time of year. This year and since this is Christmas Eve, I’ll be doing the same. On Saturday I’ll be having my regular weekly post with this year’s Christmas short story plus links back to last year’s story and my wish for the 2014 Christmas season, with that link to a video, of course. This year throughout the month of December, on my Saturday posts, I have been linking back to my past short Christmas stories starting with 2011 the year I began this blog.

I recently heard this song by Casting Crowns and thought it appropriate. Peace on Earth is a wish most of us pray for but have never seen. May your Christmas be a time of friends and family, and a remembrance for the true reason for the season. God Bless, and enjoy.

 

Published in: on December 24, 2015 at 7:01 am  Leave a Comment  
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A Christmas Wish

God Bless All! It is the time of family, of remembrances, of watching the magic in the eyes of children as they anticipate Christmas morning. It is the traditional time to celebrate the birth of Christ and all that this event represents. It is the reason for the gift giving, for all the traditions that have developed over time, from the Christmas trees, to St Nick. And the gift giving is also a representation of the Gift God gave to us that first Christmas.

May this time of year be one of love, joy, and peace. And may the new year, which is only a week away, be one of promise. Again, God Bless! And I’ll close this with a link to a Christmas song from the Piano Guys. F. D. Brant

Published in: on December 25, 2014 at 6:44 am  Comments (2)  
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