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Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts

Saturday, July 28, 2018

It Was the Night Before Christmas and Everyone Was Stirring!

This is a play I wrote a long, long time ago. I'm not sure of the exact date, but I suspect it was around 1990 or 91.

Yep, in preparing for our move, I've been digging through lots and lots of old papers and such. Every once in a while, I come across little gems like this one. I apparently started several different short stories and such. Most of the not all that great, though a couple of them have good premises. But most remain unfinished. But occasionally I run across something like this one that I did finish and is good!

Now when I say "good," I don't necessarily mean according to what I can do today. This was long before I started writing professionally. So I'm going to retype this, flaws and all, though I'll correct any typos and grammar errors I find as I go.

But one thing this confirms for me is that all my life I've been a writer. I know of stuff I wrote as a teen in high school and college. But I didn't realize just how much I'd written in the other times. Most of it I had forgotten about.

One note on this play. It was originally written to be presented in a church setting. If anyone reads this, and wants to use it for that purpose, be my guest. But it will, as a result, have a more overt gospel presentation in it.

So with that, I present to you, my Christmas play, "It Was the Night Before Christmas, and Everyone was Stirring!"

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Narrator: This is a story about a family on Christmas Eve. A time of joy, relaxation, and fun. Or is it? Let's look in on this family and see.

Be prepared to sing with us when the hymns numbers are announced. And now, I introduce to you, "It Was the Night Before Christmas, and Everyone Was Stirring!"

Scene: Opens with Dad sitting in his recliner reading the newspaper. Other living room decor can be used to give the appearance of a living room in a typical house.  After a few seconds, two of his children, between the ages of 7 and 10 come running in and stop in front of him.

Son 1: Daddy, could you tell us the Christmas story? Pleasssssse!

Dad: Well, I'm a little busy right now.

Son 2: Pleeeeeease, Daddy! We want to hear it!

Dad: Why don't you ask your mom to read it to you?

Son 1: She told us to ask you.

Dad: (with exasperation), Oh, okay. (Yells to his wife), Honey, where is the Christmas Story book?

Mom: (pokes her head out the kitchen doorway) I lent it to our pastor, I didn't think we would need it. (Ducks back into doorway)

Dad: Well, maybe I can tell it from memory. (Kids get excited.) Once upon a time, there was a big fat man who lived at the North Pole--

Son 2: No, no, Daddy. Not the Santa Claus story. The real story, about Jesus.

Dad: Oh, well, I guess I will need a Bible for that. (Yells to his wife.) Honey, where is the family Bible?

Mom: (pokes her head out the doorway.) Probably among all of your other books. Now quit bothering me. I'm trying to fix dinner. (Ducks back into the kitchen.)

Dad: (He walks over behind stage and begins to pull several books out from behind a "wall". Finally he comes to a big Bible.) Ah ha! I found it! (He blows the dust off of it as he walks back to his recliner.) Let's see, (he opens the Bible up) I think the story is in 1 Kings.

Son 1: No dad, it's in Luke. Chapter 2.

Dad: (Somewhat sarcastically) I knew that. I wanted to see if you both knew that or not. (Opens the Bible to the table of contents.) Looks like that would be page 1057. Wow, a long book. (He flips some more pages until he reaches the page number.) In those days, Caesar Augustus issued a decree--

(At this time, their teenage son runs across stage and into the kitchen. Dad gets distracted and stops reading. In a few seconds, the teen runs back across stage, headed to the "front door.")

Dad: Whoa, son. Where are you going?

Teen: I'm going to the Church Christmas party. Mom said I could. (He points toward the kitchen.)

Dad: Well, you haven't asked me.

Teen: Well, can I?

Dad: No! Sit down, I'm reading the Christmas story.

Teen: But I've heard that story a thousand times. And besides, they will probably tell it at the party tonight anyway.

Dad: It doesn't matter, I only do this once a year, and now is it. Besides, this is a family event; so sit!

Teen: (dejected and frustrated) Oh, okay. (He walks over to the "front door" and opens it. He yells to his friends in the car.) Sorry, I can't go tonight. Bye. (He waves his hand. Then he comes over and sits with his head in his hands appearing sad.)

Dad: All right. (Looks back to the Bible and says in a monotone voice) In those days . . .

(After a few sentences a knock on the door sounds out.)

Dad: Now who could that be? (He walks over to the door and opens it. Several teens enter the room with their youth pastor.)

Y.M.: Hi Mr. --use a name of someone from the congregation--, we thought that since --teens name--  could not go to the party, we would bring the party to him. (He gives the signal for everyone to begin singing. The congregation joins him at this point singing, "Deck the Halls.")

Dad: (After the song is over, says) You might as well take over. I'm sure not getting anything going.

(Youth Minister now leads the congregation in singing a couple of Christmas Hymns)

Church Teen 1: Once upon a time, there was a baby born in a manger in Bethlehem. However, this was no ordinary baby because his father was not Joseph who Mary was betrothed to, but God Himself. This baby was named Jesus and He was the Gift of God to the world. Jesus was born to die upon a cross so that we all might walk in newness of life as He walked. For this reason, we give gifts to one another. Jesus gave us life. What gift shall we give Him?

Church teen 2: Let's pray. Our loving Father, how wonderful a gift was given to us on that first Christmas morning. You, yourself, healed their sicknesses, loved the unlovable, fed the hungry, taught the wandering sheep, and forgave the repentant sinner. How wonderful a gift was given, our very own souls. Our very own life. Let us therefore rejoice at your birth, and let us give of ourselves to You. For the only gift that we can bring of any value to You is our complete dedication: our lives for Your service. Thank you for this season, this family, and your gift to us, Jesus Christ. Now, let's go and not only give gifts to each other, but you also. In Jesus' name, Amen.

(The Youth Minster and teens start to shake hands with each other and to leave.)

Mom: (Pokes her head into the room and says:) Come and Eat! (Then quickly ducks back in.)

Teen Group in unison: Eat! (Everyone runs into the kitchen with the family until the stage is empty.)

Mom: (In a couple of seconds stomps out of the kitchen and onto the stage looking angry. Stops center stage and faces audience.) How many times have I told my husband not to invite company over with discussing it with me first! (Begins to walk toward the "front door" On her way off stage, she says:) I'm going out to eat!

The End

Saturday, December 9, 2017

Dragnet for Santa

Narr: Ladies and gentlemen: the story you are about to hear is false. Only the names are true, to protect this author from being accused of making up strange names.

This is the city: Los Angeles, California. I work here. I ‘m a cop. My name is Joe Saturday, because the weekends are better.

Thursday, December 29, 2016

"Santa Claus Is Leaving Our Planet" Allusion Key

Last week I posted my Christmas story for this year, "Santa Claus Is Leaving Our Planet." Introducing that story, I challenged the reader to first find the correct TV show referred to, and then to find all seven of the allusions to that TV show in the story. If you haven't read that story and attempted to find those references, I recommend doing so before reading further here. If you've read the story and are here to see if you found them all or you don't care, you just want the answers, then read on. If you'd like, post in the comments how many out of eight you got right.

Follow the dots a little ways down to start!

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1) “. . . Santa's sleigh is like a time machine. Santa could be the Doctor for all we know.”

~This is the overt reference to the TV show, Doctor Who, to which I added seven other allusions. The other TV references mentioned or alluded to are Star Trek: the Original Series (in the discussion about how their dad read/sang the song like William Shatner and Andy calls him Captain Kirk) and Mission Impossible (Samantha says, “I have a mission for you, should you decide to accept it.”) Any other references were purely unintentional.

2) He paused, waiting for a reply that didn't come. He was not amused.

~In the 2006 Dr. Who episode, “Tooth and Claw,” Rose tries to get Queen Victoria to say “I am not amused,” a saying attributed to her but without much historical evidence. Rose finally get her to say the phrase at the end of the episode.

3) The corners of his mouth turned up. “Does that mean I get to tape you into a box?”
“Something like that, about the size of a phone booth, I’d suspect. Plus you'll get to ride in Santa's sleigh.”


~The Doctor travels around in a time machine/space ship called a TARDIS, an acronym for “Time And Relative Dimension In Space.” TARDISes can appear outwardly like any common item, but the Doctor’s became stuck as a British police call box—a type of phone booth exclusively used for contacting the police. However, one never sees any other TARDIS (that I recall) look like anything other than a police box until the modern reboot, and is likely that the “stuck” explanation was a later addition from the modern Dr. Who episodes.

4) Santa: “Time is a squishy, slimy reality. Has to be for me, you know.”

~In the 2007 episode titled, “Blink,” the Doctor uses the phrase “wibbily wobbly timey wimey” in explaining how time “operates.” My version here, though not nearly as memorable, should be enough to trigger that connection in any Doctor Who fan.

5) Santa held up a finger. “. . . Not everyone is as smart as me.”

~The Doctor usually sees himself as the smartest and most “clever” person in the room. And usually he’s right. But in recent years that arrogance has been mitigated to a degree, usually by the influence of his companions.

6) Santa nodded. “Now get a seat and hold on. This time-warp stuff gets a little tricky.”

~The Doctor would like to think he’s in full control, but sometimes his time travels don’t go as planned as the TARDIS has a mind of its own. Most notable is the first episode when Matt Smith becomes the Doctor, “The Eleventh Hour” in April of 2010. He miscalculates in returning to young Amy the promised few minutes after he left. Instead he arrives several years later when she’s a young adult. Whoops!

7) Santa pulled a lever, flipped a switch, spun a couple of dials, and then banged on the dash. Lights flashed randomly across the console. A huge tube, swirling with every color of the rainbow, materialized before them.

~Anyone who’s seen the controls of the TARDIS and how the Doctor goes around flipping this switch, pulling that lever, spinning various dials in seemingly random fashion, and sometimes banging on the controls to get them to work, will get this allusion of Santa operating his sleigh for time-warp in a similar fashion.

8) Santa: “Besides, I believe they’ll understand you better than you might think.”

~In Doctor Who, the TARDIS generates an automatic translation effect so as to allow the show’s writers to use English for all alien species and still be relatively realistic. So if Samantha was with the Doctor, she’d have no problems communicating with the aliens in a common language. Santa’s comment to Samantha allude to that aspect of Doctor Who.

The final question to answer: Is Santa Claus from Gallifrey?

Thursday, December 15, 2016

Santa Claus Is Leaving Our Planet

This year, for my annual Christmas story, I had the story trigger to write something about Santa Claus. So, I did. I recorded my process and progress on Twitter using the hashtag #RLWriting. Below is the fruit of that labor for your Christmas enjoyment.

One note before we begin. I made 8 allusions to a popular TV program. I also made some overt references to more than two TV shows as well. Your mission, should you chose to accept it, is to determine which of the overt allusions is the one I used, and what are the other seven allusions I made. See if you can locate all eight for that TV show. On or shortly after Christmas, I'll provide the allusion key so you can determine how many you found.

And now, for the story:

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Dad eased back in his comfy chair. “And this is one of my all time favorites.” He flipped a couple of pages in his well-worn book as the fire crackled, casting smoke up the chimney. The four stockings hung from the mantel, competing with the Christmas tree for their attention.

Samantha drew her knees to her chest and propped her feet against the edge of the couch. She knew what was coming. The same song that always followed that comment: Santa Claus Is Coming to Town. He sort of sung-read it William Shatner style every Christmas Eve that she could remember. Dad had all of Mr. Shatner's records. She, being fifteen years old, had listened to Dad's rendition around fourteen times. He must have sung it when she was a baby too.

Samantha glanced at her younger brother, Andy. His freckled face lit up and he sat tall in anticipation of what was to come. At least he was eager to hear it again. But he'd only heard it nine times so far. Then again he watched the “Ninja Force” movie over—

“Santa Claus Is Coming to Town!” Dad smiled as he studied their faces for a reaction. He had the uncanny ability to act like this was the first time he'd ever read it to them. He seemed to enjoy it more than they did. Mom was noticeably absent.

Andy clapped. “Yay! Read it like Captain Kirk.”

Well, maybe not more than Andy.

Dad smiled as he glanced down at the book, as if he didn't have it memorized word for work years ago. He read in his baritone, sing-song voice, “You better watch out, you better not cry, better not pout, I'm telling you why.” Dad's eyes scanned the book's page. “Santa Claus is leaving . . .” Dad's forehead wrinkled and his mouth fell open. “. . . our planet?”

Samantha straightened her back and widened her eyes. The big guy had actually done it.

Dad rechecked the front book cover. He reexamined the rebellious text. “How did this get changed?”

Andy sighed. “Dad, he has to come before he can leave. Besides, a planet is cooler than a town.”

“But that's not what it's suppose to say. Someone’s changed the words.” He ran his fingers through his salt and pepper beard. “This must be someone's idea of a joke. And I can guess who might be behind it.” He rose from his chair. “Sally!” He paused, waiting for a reply that didn't come. He was not amused. “Sally!” he yelled louder as he headed for the door.

He turned to his children before he exited the room. “You two go to bed now.”

“Aw, Dad!” Andy blurted out.

Dad pointed at Andy. “Bed. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” they both responded in unison. When Dad was like this, one argued with him only if they enjoyed pain. Besides, mom didn't change the words; Santa did. If Samantha didn't have so little time, she'd entertain the thought of slipping to their bedroom door and listen in on the ensuing argument.

Dad left the room. “Sally!”

Andy fell back in the couch, slapping his left hand on the armrest. “No fair.” He scooted to the edge and prepared to head upstairs.

“Andy?” Samantha flipped her hair over her shoulders.

“What?”

“I have a mission for you, should you choose to accept it.”

“A mission? Can we do this later? What if Dad comes back and finds us still here?”

Samantha glanced at the door. “Dad will be busy arguing with Mom for at least thirty minutes. Besides, this can’t wait.”

Andy scooted back on the couch. “Alright, but it will be your fault if we’re caught. So what is this ‘mission’?”

“It involves Santa.”

He laughed. “Santa? Like you've met him?”

“I have.”

“When?”

“Last Christmas morning. Woke up early and caught him eating the cookies.”

“Really?” Andy leaned in.

She cast a who-dares-question-my-words roll of her eyes to the ceiling. “Yes, really. He gave me a mission should he end up taking an offer. He didn't say how he would convey that he'd taken it, but the change in the song's words are obvious.”

Andy huffed. “What's obvious?”

Samantha shook her head and sighed. “That Santa Claus has left Earth to start Christmas on a planet far, far away; and he wants me to do the mission he gave me.”

“What mission? You don't mean you're going to deliver presents all over the world for him?”

She chuckled. “Hardly! I'm not Santa Claus.”

“Then who's going to do it for him if he's not here?”

Samantha shrugged. “He said he'd already taken care of that. Don't know anything more.”

Andy cocked his head. “Then what did he want you to do?”

Samantha scooted closer to Andy and leaned in. “He said it was top secret, and that I should tell no one.”

Andy crossed his arms and squinted his eyes at her. “Really? You can't be serious.”

She gazed at the ceiling. “Of course, if you help me on this mission, then I suppose I'll have to tell you.”

He frowned for a moment. “How can I do that not knowing what it is? What if it is hammering a nail into a toy on Santa's assembly line? Boooriiing!”

She huffed. “Okay, I can tell you this much. I'm going to be a present.”

The corners of his mouth turned up. “Does that mean I get to tape you into a box?”

“Something like that, about the size of a phone booth, I’d suspect. Plus you'll get to ride in Santa's sleigh.”

He grinned. “Cool! I'm in!” His eyes grew beady. “Are you going to be a slave for someone?”

“A slave?” She shook her head. “Get real! I'm going to be a friend to someone.”

“Who?”

“Don't know. He said I'd find out when I arrive, but I’m sure it will be someone I can be best friends with, who shares a lot of my interest and desires.”

“You mean someone like you.”

Samantha stared at the floor. “Is that so bad?”

Andy sighed. “I suppose not.” He hopped off the couch. “So when do we go?”

“Sometime tonight. The sleigh will come for us. That's why we need to get ready now. No telling when it will show up.” She rose from the couch and headed to the stairs.

Andy followed, but then stopped, glancing at the door their dad had left through “But what about mom and dad? Won't they freak out when we aren't here in the morning?”

Samantha face-palmed her forehead. “Did you forget? Santa's sleigh is like a time machine. Santa could be the Doctor for all we know.”

Andy nodded. “That would explain a lot.”

“From dad and mom's perspective, it will be as if we'd never left.” She waved for him to follow her. “Now come on. Let's get ready.”

The sister and brother headed to their rooms.

___________

RAP, RAP, RAP!

Samantha jerked out of her dreams and focused sleep-laden eyes toward her window. A small but worn and bearded face, topped with a green and white-trimmed cone-hat, smiled at her. The elf waved.

“Santa's sleigh is here!” She bounded out of bed, tied her shoes, slipped on her coat, then headed to the door.

RAP, RAP, RAP!

Samantha turned toward the elf. He waved for her to come.

She held up one finger. “I'll be right back. My brother's coming.”

The elf frowned. She dashed down the hall and knocked on Andy's door.

His door swung open to reveal a boy clothed with thick jeans, a coat, and heavy shoes. He smiled. “About time.”

She grunted. “I guess you knew.”

He pointed to the ceiling. “All that clatter woke me up.”

“Well then, let's go.”

They returned to Samantha's room. The elf stood with crossed arms, staring impatiently through the window. Though she couldn't see his feet, she could tell one was tapping.”

Andy's eyes bulged. “Wow! A real elf!”

She unlocked the window and pulled it open.

The elf swung his right arm wide and bowed. “Enter the sleigh, please.”

As she stepped out, the shiny vehicle—reflecting metallic reds, golds, and greens—appeared much like it had been depicted in so many stories and movies. It hovered above the ground at her second story window. Toward the front floated a long line of reindeer. Holding the reins sat a big man wearing a red coat and cap with . . .

Samantha squinted. “Hey, wait a minute. Santa?”

The driver turned around.

Samantha smiled. “It is you!” She rubbed her head. “But I thought you'd left the planet?”

He belched out a rolling laugh. “In a way I have, and yet I'm here.” He raised a hand into the air. “Time is a squishy, slimy reality. Has to be for me, you know.”

Andy stared bug-eyed at Santa once he'd stepped into the sleigh, as if in shock.

Samantha scratched her forehead. “I'm confused. If you're here, what do you need me for?”

Santa held up a finger. “You misunderstood. But that is to be expected. Not everyone is as smart as me.”

“Or thinks like you.” Samantha winked.

“Touché. But I didn't need you because I was gone. I needed you because I was going.”

Samantha blinked. “What?”

He pointed into the sky. “You're coming with me.”

Her mouth fell open. “Say what?”

Andy blurted out, “We're going to another planet?”

Santa nodded. “Now get a seat and hold on. This time-warp stuff gets a little tricky.”

“Awesome!” Andy landed in a seat and buckled up.

Samantha sat down, still processing what Santa had said. Did some lonely human on a distant planet need a friend like her? Must be.

“Here we go!” Santa whipped the reins. “On Donner, on Blitzen . . .” The sleigh lurched forward, slowly at first, but rapidly gained speed as they headed toward the clouds. They entered and plowed through the clouds for a few seconds before breaking into the clear moonlit sky above them. Santa pulled a lever, flipped a switch, spun a couple of dials, and then banged on the dash. Lights flashed randomly across the console. A huge tube, swirling with every color of the rainbow, materialized before them. Santa flew into it without hesitation.

Samantha couldn't believe what had happened. “Surely I'm still sleeping at home safe and sound in bed. This has to be a dream,” she mumbled.

“Dream on, young one. Dream on.” Santa's “ho, ho” laugh resounded in her ears.

What might have been seconds, minutes, hours, or days—Samantha couldn't tell in the no-man's-land of time—ended when Santa spun a few dials, pushed down on a foot petal, then pushed the lever back up. The tube of swirling colors ended, dumping them out into a reddish sky and green clouds. Santa banked the sleigh to the right and headed downward.

As they drew closer to the ground, Samantha spotted a city lying among a forest of burning-orange foliage. The city’s tall spired buildings and bluish-tinted windows impressed upon Samantha the foreignness that they had dived into. If ever she knew what feeling like a fish out of water was about, this was it.

Santa guided the sleigh to a halt before a big building. Various aliens scurried around, glancing at them with big eyes, long necks, and lanky legs.

“Where are we?” Andy asked.

Santa turned to face the back. “Oir in the southern province of Alva. Their name for their planet is unpronounceable in English, but you would know it as Alpha Centauri. And in there,” he pointed at the building beside them, “is your mission, Samantha.”

Samantha stared at it. “What do they do in there?”

“It’s your equivalent of a cancer hospice ward. Now go on in and make a friend. I'll wait here.”

She started to step out, but paused. “But we'll have nothing in common with them. We don't even speak the same language. How am I supposed to befriend anyone in there?”

Santa threw up his hands. “Why do people focus on differences to the loss of communion? Believe me, they have many of the same desires, fears, and needs you have. Especially the need to be unconditionally loved, no matter the differences. Besides, I believe they’ll understand you better than you might think.”

Andy leaped out of the sleigh, stood by the side of it, and held out a hand. “Santa's right. I'll help you.”

Santa nodded his head. “And a child shall lead them.”

Samantha stepped onto the foreign soil.

“And remember . . .” Santa paused for effect. “. . . you're not only giving them a gift, you're getting one. This is, after all, my Christmas gift to you: the experience of true love and friendship.”

Samantha nodded. With Andy's hand in hers, she stepped into the unknown future of love.

Thursday, December 17, 2015

The Fountain of Christmas Cheer

My annual Christmas story/gift to my readers is a bit unusual this year, for me, in that it is more mainstream fiction than my normal speculative fair. But that's just what wanted to be written, even though I had intended to add in some fantasy elements. It is what it is, but I think you'll enjoy it just as much. Merry Christmas!

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[caption id="attachment_1151" align="alignright" width="256" caption="Christmas tree. Pereslavl museum, Christmas 2012"]Christmas tree. Pereslavl museum, Christmas 2012[/caption]

The bitter, cold wind blasting my cheeks matched the mood of my heart. I pulled up the collar of my coat as I crossed the busy downtown street. The traffic noise and honking horns bouncing off the surrounding skyscrapers added to the somber notes inside my head.

Mixed among all that cacophony rang the mixed music of Christmas playing from stores, cars, and people next to me. The cheerful notes only heightened my misery. Everyone seemed happy, joyful, and desperate to foist that happiness onto me, as if I could be happy by flipping a switch.

As I stepped onto the curb, someone tugged at my pants. I jerked my head down to spot a boy, about 8 or 10 years old. Big eyes pleaded with me while a dirty face and worn clothing advertised his need.

He raised up his dirty hand. “Please, sir. Can you give me some money so I can eat?”

I sighed. “Do you have a home, boy?”

He shook his head.

“You have a family?”

He shook his head again. “No, sir. They died last year. My sister and I don't have a home.”

This sounded fishy. Certainly Social Services would have put two homeless kids into a foster family or something. But the pathetic boy standing beside me said I had to do something on the chance his story was true.

I glanced around; my eyes landed on a sub shop down the street. “I won't give you money, but I'll buy you and your sister a meal at that restaurant.” I pointed at the sub shop.

A smile spread across his face. “That would be fantastic. Thank you, sir!”

I led him through the crowded sidewalk and into the shop. Being hungry myself, I ordered three subs. I started to pull a chair out at a table.

The boy placed his hand on the back of the chair. “Can I sit here?”

I nodded. “Sure, but why?”

“I want to see the door.”

I released the chair. Did he watch for someone to come in? An accomplice, perhaps? Maybe his sister? I had better keep my guard up. I had no idea what his motives were.

We sat down at a table and the boy dug into his sub, almost eating the wrapper in the process. Obviously he hadn't eaten for a while, which made me feel better about feeding him. Still, I wanted to find out his real story. He appeared too happy for a kid living on the street because of dead parents. It didn't make sense.

I swallowed a bite. “What's your name, son?”

He chewed for a few seconds before swallowing. “Josh.” He launched into another bite.

“My name's Daniel.” I waited until he finished he current mouthful. “How did your parents die?”

He paused and stared blankly past me. “A man came into our house and killed them. After he took a lot of stuff, he said if we called the police or told anyone, he'd be back to kill us too.” His smile returned and he bit into the sub.

Ah, he's explaining why they're not in the social system. “But you're telling me now? I'm anyone.”

“I doubt he'd find out I'd told a stranger. You won't do anything about it.”

“So what did you do?”

“We ran away. If he doesn't know where we are, he can't hurt us.”

Either he told the truth or some adult had given them a good story to tell to rake in the dough, like in Oliver Twist. I suspected the later since he spoke of their deaths so unemotionally. Time to press for more information.

“So,” I said, “if all this bad stuff has happened to you, why are you so happy?”

Josh lifted the half-eaten sub above the table.

“I know you're happy to eat, but I'm talking deeper than that.”

He stopped eating. “Why are you so sad when you have a place to live and food to eat?”

So he wanted to play the “whose got it worse” game. He didn't know I had lost my job. He didn't know my wife had divorced me this year and taken away my children. He didn't know I had filed for bankruptcy after losing my house. Nor did he know about my doctor's diagnosis of colon cancer that threatened to take my life. That said, I did have an apartment to live in and food to eat thanks to the generosity of friends, family, and a part-time job I had taken in desperation.

“Let's just say, Josh, that some pretty bad things have happened to me over the past year. Different from yours, but still just as bad.” More like my world had fallen apart. I had become a failure at most everything. Who knew, I might end up joining Josh on the streets by the time it was all said and done.

Josh's chewed slowly before the food dropped into his stomach. “I still have my sister and it is Christmas. And right now, I have you.”

“Have me? Like I'm your mark?”

“Mark?”

“Someone you are tricking to get money from by telling a bunch of lies to garner their sympathy.”

Josh's eyes widened. “No! I mean I'm with you now. You care about me even though you don't know me. That makes me happy.”

I sat back in the chair as Josh continued eating. His perspective came into focus. Events didn't make him happy or sad. People did. Their genuine, selfless love did.

Josh glanced over my shoulder and froze as I heard the door chime ring behind me. He cowered into his chair and pulled his ratty, thin coat over his head. “He's here.”

“Who's here?” I peaked over my shoulder. A bearded man, around six-feet tall, stepped into the shop. His long, unkempt hair and long, black trench coat did give him a menacing appearance. The man made his way to the ordering counter.

Josh's voice quivered. “The man who killed mom and dad.”

I rubbed my forehead. Josh displayed true fear. He was telling the truth. This injustice needed to be rectified. Men like this one shouldn't be on the street. I took a deep breathe. Maybe I could get enough information on the man to tell the authorities. It might go south, but if I played my cards right, the man wouldn't suspect my motives.

By this point, the man stood at the register paying for his meal. I would ask the clerk for something and see if I couldn't start a conversation with the guy. I patted Josh's covered head. “I'll be right back. Stay here. I won't let him hurt you.” Though I had no idea how I would stop the bulky man if it came to it.

I scooted my chair back and approached him from the back. As my eyesight breached the man's shoulder, I saw him holding a gun discreetly toward the cashier as money was being stuffed into a bag. My plan wasn't a good idea. But here I was, standing right behind the man in the middle of committing a felony. If he didn't kill me, the cancer probably would. What did I have to lose at this point?

I laced my fingers together to form a hard ball, then swung it with all my might at the back of his head. The man lurched forward and his knees almost gave out. One of his hands grabbed the back of his head while he turned my way with his gun. Having the advantage of surprise, I knew it was now or never. I reared my right fist back, and stepped into an uppercut to the man's jaw. Reeling back, he hit the wall, shaking his head.

Before he could gain his bearings, I pulled the gun from his hand, then landed another blow to the side of his head with the firearm's butt. The burly man fell unconscious to the floor.

The stunned patron's clapping started slowly, then grew into a chorus as they realized what had transpired. The relieved cashier grabbed the phone. I helped him tie the man up in case he came to before the police arrived.

I returned to the table to discover Josh smiling like he'd just opened the best Christmas presence he'd ever received. In a manner of speaking, he had.

And so had I. “Josh, why don't we get your sister and for now, you two can stay at my apartment.”

He grinned. “That would be awesome!”

A bubbly lightness and contentment flooded over me. “Yes, it is awesome.” I thanked God for giving birth to new hope, once again. Like He did over 2000 years ago at His nativity. For the first time in a long while, I desired to celebrate Christmas—because of who was with me.

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Celebrating the Fullness of Christmas cover.While you're thinking about it, check out and get a copy of my devotional for the twelve days of Christmas: Celebrating the Fullness of Christmas An enriching and enjoyable way to make Christmas more real and fulfilling. Click on the cover photo to buy.

Thursday, December 12, 2013

What Does the Tree Say?

"Dad, what about that one?" asked Jerry.

Doug wiped the accumulated snow from his glasses. "Too young, son." A live Christmas tree, she wanted. The artificial tree had sufficed for years. Why her sudden desire for a live one? It only added more work to an overburdened to-do list.

His boots crunched the new fallen snow as they weaved through the trees. The crisp smell of freezing air prompted him to tighten his hood while he cradled an ax in his elbow against his body. Jerry, his five-year-old son, dashed ahead of him.

Doug recalled Joan's words, "I want a live tree. Not the farm-raise trees they sell in the lots. I like my Christmas tree wild and fresh!"

What had gotten into that woman? It was a tree. Not a fish. But she had her heart set on one, so he was traipsing through a forest in knee-deep snow, trying to find a wild Christmas tree.

"Dad, Dad! I found one. Come and see!" Jerry's young voice pierced the still air.

A full moon lit the sky, highlighting his path. Doug rounded a large, snow-laden fur. He froze.

The perfect Christmas tree glowed, casting shadows from surrounding trees. Its light wasn't a reflection of the moon, but radiated from within. Doug sucked in a deep breath.

"See, Dad. Isn't it perfect?"

Doug let the ax handle slide through his glove until he gripped the end. "She wants wild? This should fit the bill." He picked a clear shot to the trunk and waved his left hand. "Stand back, son. Don't want to hurt you."

Jerry hopped, clapping his hands. "Yippe!" He moved backward five leaps.

Doug placed the ax head against the trunk to line up the swing. "Let's get this over with." He pulled the ax back until it lined up with his shoulder, then swung down with all his might. The blade connected with the wood.

A bright light flashed, blinding Doug. A force shoved him off his feet, burying him into the snow on his back.

Doug blinked a few times. His eyes focused on the night stars from within his icy-walled canyon. The tree-tops reached into the night sky.

What had happened? Doug wiggled his fingers and toes. Didn't feel like he'd broken anything. He pushed himself up with his elbows. "Jerry, you okay?"

A growl echoed through the cold air. The face of a fox sat inches away from Doug's.

Doug gulped. "Nice foxie."

"Who gave you authority to cut down the tree?" The fox's nose flared.

Doug's jaw dropped.

"Come on human scum. Who?"

"You're . . . you're talking!"

"And you're stalling." The fox bared his fangs. "Confess! By who's authority?"

Doug shook his head. Had he hit his head on a rock? He felt the back of his skull for a wound but found none. Why was a fox asking him this question, even if it could talk.

Doug rubbed his forehead. "My wife, Joan."

The fox cocked his head. "Don't know any Joan." He turned his head behind him. "Clive, you take over. I'm not getting anywhere."

A fluttering noise broke through the night air. An owl's face peered into Doug's ice canyon. "My, my, my! What have we here? I should think one would consider the repercussions when considering random acts of violence against trees."

Doug rubbed his eyes. An owl with a British accent? Now he knew he was hallucinating. "You don't have any lips. How can you talk?"

Clive flapped his wings. "Sir, I don't consider offending me a plus to your case. If you'd be so good as to answer our questions, we'll be done with it and on our way."

Doug breathed deep. Nothing to do but play along with this bizarre story line. "Mind if I sit up?"

"See," the fox said. "The hairless pup is worthless."

Clive's head rotated behind him. "That's quite enough, Mr. Furball." He pivoted his eyes back to Doug. "If you'll answer our questions, please proceed."

Doug pushed himself into a sitting position. Clive perched on a branch protruding from the snow drift. Mr. Furball sat on his haunches by a tree a few feet away. The glowing tree radiated beside them. A hole in the snow in the shape of an ax marked the location of his tool.

But no sign of his son. "Did you see a little boy?"

Clive ruffled his feathers. "Enough! You'll answer our question first."

Doug sighed. "What question was that?"

Clive let out an owl hoot. "Who!"

Doug smiled. Now the owl was making a pun. He might need a shrink after this. Or at least a drink. Maybe a drink with a shrink.

Doug scratched his whiskered chin. "You mean on who's authority? I told you already. If that isn't good enough, I don't know what you're looking for."

"Unless you're name is Joan, and you don't fancy that name at all, that is no answer."

They probably had some city hall run by a mayor badger that issued permits. There's no way he could guess. "I don't have anyone's authority. All I wanted to do is get a Christmas tree. Is that a crime?"

Clive glanced at Mr. Furball. "So you do have authority to cut down the tree?"

Doug stared at Clive. "I do?"

"You just said it. Who?"

Authority? "Uh, the Doctor?"

Clive folded his wings over his head.

Mr. Furball dashed toward them, sliding to a stop, snow falling into Doug's lap. "What does the tree say?"

Doug fixed his eyes on the tree, its tip pointing into the vast array of stars. He raised his eyebrows. "Christmas tree. Christ. Jesus Christ."

Darkness swallowed Doug. His eyes flickered open. Paramedics swarmed around him as he lay in the snow.

"He's responding."

Jerry's face popped into view. "Dad! You'll be all right."

A paramedic pulled plates from his chest. "Mr. Stilwell, your son saved your life. He used your cell phone to call 911. You had gone into cardiac arrest. Luckily we were in the area."

Doug frowned. He had been hallucinating. Yet it had felt so real. He glanced toward the tree. It lay on the ground, the trunk cut cleanly in two. Only the moonlight glistened against the snow stuck to its leaves.

In the distance, an owl cried out, "Who?"

Doug yelled back, "Who!"

Jerry smiled. "The tree points to Him. That's why you're alive."

Doug grinned. It took his son, a fox, an owl, and a tree to drive home the truth. Christmas isn't about a list of whats, but a who. Who the tree points to.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Yippee for Christmas! by R. L. Copple

As I've been doing for the last few years, I'm presenting to friends, family, and fans a Christmas short story as my Christmas gift to you. Thanks to everyone who has read, supported, and been a friend over the past year, and I pray into the new year as well. Now, enjoy my new Christmas short story: Yippee for Christmas!



Once upon a time, in a land far, far away that amazingly looked a lot like Texas, there lived a king named Loren. King Loren ruled a kingdom full of joyous, peaceful, and loving people. For they had much to be thankful for. From the mountain ranges in the west, to the plains in the north, to the ocean beaches on the southern coast, and the forest in the east, rarely was heard a dissenting voice. Crime gained no foothold here, as no one lived in discontent. It was Heaven on Earth.

What you say? Impossible? One would think so, save for one basic fact. The biggest celebration in this kingdom happened every December 25th on Christmas day. Each year, the king threw the grandest party in his castle, not sparing neither Christmas turkey, Christmas ham, Christmas tamales, or Christmas picante sauce. No child left without a present from the king. The whole kingdom celebrated Christmas.

What? Oh, you're wondering why this created their private utopia? Not because of the food, but because of what they celebrated: joy, peace, and love. The celebration reminded them all year long to practice these virtues, and so they did with the utmost fervor. They celebrated and practiced these virtues so well that all crime vanished, no one starved or lacked a roof over their heads, and no one complained over what they had, didn't have, or what their neighbor had that they didn't. The focus on joy, peace, and love overshadowed everything else.

One Christmas eve, King Loren's death ended his reign. The funeral line processed in a solemn march through the city as adults and children lined the streets. The normal joy of the season fell silent against the night of the king's life. Everyone reminisced about the good king's deeds and heroic decisions, and the most honorable kingdom in the world under his rule. No one shared a negative word against him, so great was their love for him.

King Loren's rule fell to his oldest son, Xander. Before the festivities of Christmas began, the lords of the land installed King Loren's son to the throne.

As King Xander examined the solemn crowd in the usually festive hall, he said to them, "My loyal subjects. Ever did my father find joy, peace, and love in the Christmas celebration. We can do no less in honor of his memory. He would not be pleased to find us sad on this day, lest we forget all he has taught us. So let us lift a glass to his memory and celebrate this festival as if he is watching, for he very well may be."

Heads nodded and smiles filled the sea of faces sitting around tables laden with all sorts of Christmas foods. Hands reached for glasses to join in the toast, all except one. One hand raised above the growing hum of voices and said, "My lord, I have a complaint!"

Gasps raced across the hall; talking halted. The king, along with every other eye in the crowd, stared at the man with the upraised hand. King Xander scratched his beard in disbelief. "Kind sir, are you from our fair kingdom? For complaints are rare with our people who celebrate and practice joy, peace, and love throughout the year. What possible complaint will you bring before us on this august day?"

The man lowered his hand and stood. "My lord, I am new to these parts. I had heard of the joy, peace, and love of this land, and wished to join such worthy festivities. Now that I am here, I feel excluded, for I am not of your religion. Would not it be more inclusive of all faiths who also celebrate joy, peace, and love, if we gave this holiday a new name? I beseech you to consider this request so that I too, and those who follow other faiths, are free to celebrate with you." The man sat down.

All eyes turned to the king in anticipation of his words. King Xander stroked his beard for a moment and then said, "Long has it been the tradition in our land, set by my father, to call this day Christmas. Yet your argument is sound. I will put my wise men to the task and by next Christmas—or whatever it will be called—we will have a new name. So be it."

The lords replied back, "May the king's will be done." The man smiled, and the celebration continued through the day as it had for many years.

Shortly before the next Christmas...I mean, whatever it would be called, King Xander made an announcement in his court. "My dear subjects. Last year, I declared we would find a more inclusive name for our celebration of joy, peace, and love. After much consultation with my wisest counselors, we have settled on that name.

"Beginning this year, it will no longer be referred to as Christmas, but Yippee! You will no longer have a Christmas tree, but instead, a Yippee cactus. Santa will no longer deliver Christmas presents; he will leave children Yippee presents. No longer will you hear Christmas in your songs. Rather you'll hear songs like, 'Yippee, Yippee time is here. Time for laughter, time for cheer...' Instead of hearing the story ''Twas the Night Before Christmas,' you will hear, ''Twas the Night Before Yippee.' All references to Christmas will be changed throughout the kingdom in favor of the new name to commemorate joy, peace, and love: Yippee!"

The hall erupted in a glorious, "Yippee!" followed by clapping and shouts. They had never felt more inclusive.

Christmases...I mean, Yippees came and went for seven years. Each year the celebration grew grander to outdo the last. But other changes emerged over the seven years. Crime rose from nearly non-existent to 30%. Complaints became the norm instead of the exception. Despite doing more in the Yippee parties than his father, King Xander received notices of discontent about them and a good many other government services as well. Joy, peace, and love declined even while their virtues were lauded.

At the eighth annual celebration of Yippee, King Xander put on another exciting Yippee party at his castle. After listening to a rousing rendition of "Yippie Bells," and a fun sing-along with the king of "O, Yippee Night," the king sat at the head of a table filled with Yippee turkey, Yippee ham, Yippee tamales, and Yippee picante sauce. By this point, King Xander had also added his own touch to the menu: Yippee figgy pudding.

King Xander stood, raised his glass of Yippee wine, and then said, "My loyal subjects, each year at this time we celebrate the virtues of joy, peace, and love: the founding principles of our land. So I toast with each of you that these virtues will prevail among us and that our country will always celebrate their values and benefits."

A couple of heads nodded. Many said, "Whatever." Hands wandered toward glasses to join in the toast, all except one. One hand raised above the growing grunts, and an eight-year old boy said, "My lord, I have a complaint!"

A few, "What's new?" comments echoed among them as eyes focused on the king's response.

King Xander waved his hand. "You'll need to take it to the complaint department. It is open on Mondays through Fridays from noon to one o'clock."

The boy stood. "I have a question then. Why?"

The king's forehead wrinkled. "Why what?"

"Why do we celebrate joy, peace, and love? Especially when there is so little of it."

King Xander moved his mouth as if to talk for two seconds before emitting an answer. "Why? Because my young lad, you are not able to remember the joy of my father's reign. The celebration of these virtues is what provided such prosperity and harmony in our land for many years. We have fallen from that ideal, I will grant you, but that is no reason to not celebrate their glorious effect upon our kingdom."

The child shook his head. "But why celebrate something that ain't happening?"

King Xander scratched his head, then turned to the wise men seated on the left side of his table. "Answer the boy's question."

The wise men stared at each other to see who would give an answer. Five seconds passed, then the oldest of them stood. Wise Joseph—King Loren's trusted adviser and the one, lone dissenting voice concerning the Yippee celebration change—bowed to the king.

Wise Joseph faced the child. "In the ancient writings, the angels appeared to shepherds in the fields by night. Upon arriving, the angels declared a message of great joy, and upon departing, they shared the words, "On Earth, peace." That is, peace and goodwill among men. But these virtues were not the purpose behind their celebration. Rather the angels pointed to One who would infuse joy, peace, and love among mankind. It is not the virtues we celebrate, but the god-man who came from Heaven to give us joy, peace, and love." Wise Joseph returned to his seat.

Silence prevailed for five seconds. Then the child asked, "Who is this god-man?"

The king stared at the boy, then raised his hand. "My loyal subjects. I fear we have made a grave mistake these past eight years. In our attempt to be inclusive, we have excluded the very person who instills these virtues into each one of us. Knowledge of and living by His words have diminished, and therefore, so has joy, peace, and love. From this moment forward, we will return to calling this celebration Christmas. We will have our Christmas trees, our Christmas foods, our Christmas presents, and yes, even our Christmas figgy pudding to celebrate the Christ through who we are made joyful, peaceful, and loving. We are not inclusive by excluding anyone, most especially the guest of honor, but by inviting all to join in His celebration. So be it."

The lords raised their glasses. "May the king's will be done." Loud clapping and cheers arose from the celebrants.

And so the kingdom celebrated Christmas once again, and a measure of joy, peace, and love returned to the land over the following years. What? You want to know what happened to the ideal kingdom? Once corrupted with the knowledge of evil, the kingdom is rebuilt one person, one heart at a time as they partake in the redemption of the God-man and find true joy, peace, and love abiding within. The ideal kingdom reigns in such persons, and it is this truth that the people of King Xander's country learned to celebrate.

Yippee for Christmas!

Friday, December 23, 2011

Operation Christmas Gift by R. L. Copple

Jeremy stared blankly at the video screens stretching across the Titan station's wall as they scanned Earth's video feeds for crimes in progress. Glimpses of Christmas trees flashed across them as the world he called home, almost a billion miles away, prepared for Christmas the next morning.

"BJ, do you think we'll see Santa from here?" Bridget turned to watch Jeremy's eyes.

He barely cracked a smile. That would certainly get his mind off all the events of the past year. "No, Sis, I seriously doubt it." Jeremy met her eyes. Her short, brown hair brushed her shoulders. "Santa operates under the radar."

She huffed. "You make him sound like a bad guy."

"He does break into people's houses."

She slapped his arm. "To give stuff, not take it."

Jeremy felt his gut sink. "Christmas took my life from me. It took our parents from us." A year ago, he had parents, a normal life. All gone now. All because he had received that stupid helmet for Christmas, had put it on, had become involved with another world's battle, had saved them, then had become the hero who saved Earth from the revenge of the Similarians, but only after they killed his parents. A year later, his life turned upside down, the world moved on as if nothing had happened. He played virtual superheroes instead of living a normal life. Another Christmas came, but without the Mind Game this time. But he still had the hero game going.

She slumped in her seat. "I was trying not to think about that."

"Hey, Bucko."

Jeremy swung around to see Mickey stepping up behind him. "Hey, Mick. What took you?"

"Family returned late from a Christmas Eve service. Said I wanted to go to bed right away, like I couldn't wait until tomorrow." He smiled. "But I don't have to."

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, you don't have to wait?"

Mickey slapped Jeremy on the back. "Because I have Astro Man right here. Just use that xray beam of yours and I'll know what they are tonight!"

Jeremy shook his head. "Mick, you're crazy."

"Oh, come on. I'm hoping they snagged the latest game--"

Jeremy jumped out of his seat. "What? Another game? Are you crazy?"

Mickey grimaced. "Bucko, what's the deal. It's just a video game."

Jeremy rubbed his forehead. "That's what we thought last year. Just a game. A game that stole my life from me."

Mickey's eyes grew wide. "Ah, of course. Christmas would be triggery for you. I'm sorry."

Jeremy sucked in a deep breath. "Forget it, Mick. It's all I can think about right now."

"What you need is some action. Anything on the vids tonight?"

Jeremy shook his head. "Christmas Eve is pretty quite all over the world it seems."

"Santa," Bridget's voice rang out.

Jeremy spun around to Bridget. "What?"

She pointed at a video screen. "There's Santa. And he's breaking into a house."

Mickey slapped his hands together. "There's our action. Let's take down Santa."

Jeremy held up a hand. "Mick, this is suspicious. Think about it. How would a live camera crew know about a break-in to a home as it happens and be there to record it?"

Mickey shrugged. "Happened to be in the right place at the right time? They've probably called the cops, but are filming it for the drama."

"Maybe." Jeremy stared at it a bit longer. "Aren't there movie plots about Santa stealing things?" Micky stared at him. Jeremy called out, "Computer, find movies where Santa steals." A screen went blank and then a list of titles appeared. The highest rated link read, "The Adventure of the Wrong Santa Claus" in 1914. Related links followed it.

Mickey read the results. "Are you saying the Zorians are behind this? Else I'm not following you. Santa thieves have been around forever."

"Yes...I mean, no. I doubt it is a Zorian. But it still makes me suspicious."

"Okay, so maybe it's a trap. Maybe it's not. And if it's not, guess who loses?"

Jeremy ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes, you're right. But stay together. My gut is saying something is wrong here."

"Agreed," Mickey responded.

Bridget jumped from the chair. "Sure, but we'll be virtual. We can't get hurt."

Jeremy stood. "Then as you say, Mick, let's do this."

Mickey grinned. "This will be good for you. You'll see."

Jeremy entered the coordinates. "Suit, appear as Astro Man."

The room faded and a breeze blew across his chin sticking out from below his helmet. The half-moon cast a dim glow over the residential neighborhood. A street light flickered a few yards to the right. Activity buzzed to his left where a camera crew recorded the house, waiting for the thief to exit. A siren blared in the distance, indicating the police were indeed on their way. Mickey was probably right. They would save someone's Christmas from being stolen and make some kids happy, at least.

Mickey appeared beside him as Blue Nova. Jeremy could barely make out the blue-green suit, blue briefs, and dark blue cape in the moonlight.

Bridget materialized as Rainbow Girl to his left. Her sparkly mask flaring at the end reflected the meager light.

Jeremy caught her eye. "Rainbow Girl?"

She smiled. "You catch 'em. I'm make 'em cooperative."

Jeremy nodded. "Sounds like a plan. You stay out here. Blue Nova and I will grab this guy." He turned toward Mickey. "I'll use my blinding flash on my gun, and while the crew is blinded, race in there and grab him, bring him to Rainbow Girl, and she'll make him giddy with cooperation."

Mickey saluted. "Sir, yes, sir!"

"Mick!"

"Lighten up, Bucko. Have a little fun with this. You're way too wound up."

Jeremy pulled his gun out and set it for the light blast. "You should never let your guard down. Assume nothing."

"It's just a lone Santa thief. What could go wrong?"

"I hope your right." Jeremy pointed the gun toward the camera crew. "Hide your eyes. On three. One, two, three!" Jeremy squeezed the trigger and a blast of light lit up the area. The camera crew rubbed their eyes and swore in the quiet neighborhood. Within a second, Mickey flashed back with a squirming man in his arms. Mickey dropped him on the ground.

"What the--" The man stayed on the ground.

Bridget extended her arms and flow of rainbow colors enveloped the man.

Santa's eyes blinked and a grin spread across his face. "So much for my Christmas. But that's okay. I'm happy anyway."

Jeremy pointed to the street. "Go sit on the curb and wait for the police. Give yourself up when they arrive."

"Oh gladly I will. I was so bad to try and steal...you."

Jeremy's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

The back of the news van flung open. A line of soldiers carrying automatic rifles streamed out the door. Jeremy raised his gun to set it for shields, but before he could, a rain of bullets spread over them. He could feel the bullets hitting him. He would have called out to exit the suit, but dying in the virtual body would accomplish the same thing. This did appear to be a trap, but what trap? They would wake up and come back again. Apparently they didn't know much about how virtual bodies worked. But why did the army set this trap?

As life ebbed from the virtual body, he saw Mickey drop out of nova speed and fall to the ground. He hadn't reacted fast enough, despite his super speed. He felt himself falling onto the grass as blackness swept over him.

Jeremy jerked his eyes open. He tried to focus, but the ceiling he saw was not the stucco of his uncle's house at the top of a Montana mountain. Instead, polished metal greeted his eyes. He pushed himself up.

Thick hands wrapped around his arms and another pulled the cowl off his face. "Commander, Operation Christmas Gift has been completed, sir."

Jeremy groaned inwardly. Their bodies had been captured while they were virtual. Two men on either side of him kept a firm grip on his arms, another two stood toward the foot of his bed, rifles aimed at the floor, ready to use. No doubt another two stood behind him.

A higher ranking solider beside his bed examined the cowl. "Very interesting. I'm sure our scientist will have a field day with this."

Jeremy noticed the American flag attached to their uniforms. US military. "Earth's best scientist couldn't figure out how the helmets operated. What makes you think this will be easier?"

A smug smile creased his lips. "We've actually made progress in figuring out some of the Mind Game helmets. But we're missing a point of reference."

Jeremy squinted at him. "What?"

"Point of reference. The helmets, as you know, don't work. And even when they did, the destination was in another galaxy. But with these in hand and the destination being in the same room, they'll be able to trace the energy field being created, and hopefully come up with the remaining pieces of the puzzle."

Jeremy let himself fall back to the cot. The soldier’s hands loosened but remained firm. "No one can use the mask but me. Same with the other mask Mickey and Bridget have. They are programmed to respond only to our voices."

The man shot a stare at Jeremy. "You'll forgive me if I don't trust you."

"Be my guest." Jeremy turned to meet his eyes. "But how did you find us?"

He waved his hand. "Simple deduction. When the superhero appearances began to be reported all over the world, and you're friend and sister's personas helped in defending Earth, it became obvious that the same virtual reality of the Mind Game was at work. From there you were the most logical culprits. We tracked down your locations and set the trap to grab you."

Jeremy stared at the wall. He should have foreseen this possibility. "Why, though? Why revert to kidnapping us?"

The soldier stuffed the cowl into his pocket. "Control, Jeremy Goodhue. The Army likes to have control over situations. And I didn't suspect you'd approve of us gaining that control. But if we can duplicate this technology, our forces would be invincible. We can fight wars on the ground without losing a life. With a legion of virtual Blue Novas to speed in and hit the enemy before they even blink, we could maintain control for decades. Centuries even. Can you imagine the progress? Can you see the peace we could uphold?"

Jeremy knew he didn't want to tell the man anything else. Let him think he could succeed. As soon as the Zorians caught wind of it, they'd shut off the virtual energy going through the wormhole and that would be that. No more superhero days for himself, Mickey, and Bridget. But then again, that didn't sound so bad. He wouldn't mind putting the whole thing behind him, and salvage what he could of his life.

"Peace?" Jeremy breathed deep. "By killing?"

He smiled. "Youthful idealism. I'm afraid the world is a dangerous place. Some people only understand one thing. Brut force."

Jeremy grumbled under his breath, "That's what all bullies think."

"What?" The Commander stared at him for a couple of seconds. Then turned and headed for the door. He paused as he opened it. "By the way. Merry Christmas, Jeremy." He left and shut the door behind him.

Jeremy groaned. "We may have killed Rillian, but his spirit lives on."

___________


The Commander returned to the room after an hour had passed. His face grim, he faced Jeremy lying on the cot. "You were right. We have to use you to get the mask to operate. Come with me." He turned on his heels and headed to the door.

Arms pulled Jeremy off the cot. He stumbled along beside the soldiers as they exited the room and marched down the hall. The Commander stopped in front of a door and pointed at the window.

Jeremy moved to look in, keeping his eyes fixed on the Commander's stoic gaze. He peered in and saw Uncle George sitting on a cot, coveralls and hat as if they'd snatched him while he milked the cows.

"Just want to ensure your cooperation. If you resist or try anything foolish, it won't go well for your uncle, sister, or friend."

Jeremy met his gaze. "We're United States citizens. What about our constitutional rights to due process? You can't threaten us like this."

A smile cracked on his lips. "To the government, the Congress, and the Constitution, we don't exist. You'll have a hard time suing an organization that doesn't exist."

"How do I know you have my sister and friend?"

The Commander nodded down the hall. They stopped at the next two cell doors. Bridget sat on the cot rocking her feet under it. Mickey circled his cot as if deep in thought. "Satisfied?"

Jeremy nodded, and followed the soldiers down the hall, a right turn into another hall, a left, and a few doors on the right, they entered a room. Waist-high tables lined the walls. Chairs sat scattered in front of them, and soldiers worked on different projects. Centrifuges, Bunsen burners, test tubes, microscopes, and various other lab equipment littered the table-tops.

But in the center of the room stood a dentist-like chair fastened with heart monitors, IVs, and a foil ring that swiveled off the top of the chair's back, as if it would fit on someone's head. A moveable light hoovered over the chair. Jeremy guessed the light wasn't to get a better view of one's mouth.

The soldiers jumped to their feet as the Commander strolled to the center of the room. He patted the chair. "Lay down here."

Jeremy didn't see he had any other option. So he crawled into the chair and laid his head against the back. Jeremy watched as the Commander reached onto the table where one soldier stood at attention, and picked up his cowl. He saw Bridget's and Mickey's masks laying beside it.

The Commander held the mask in front of Jeremy. "You will put this on, then appear in this room as one of your characters. If you do not appear here, I will order the termination of one of those we are holding."

Jeremy's jaw dropped. "Murder?" He had to be bluffing.

"Oh, it would be an accident. Your Uncle falls off the mountain. Your sister drowns in a lake. Your friend shows up in an automobile accident while walking home. All after we terminate them and plant the evidence. We could even implicate you in their deaths if we wished. Now you don't want their blood on your hands, do you?"

"Investigators would know they didn't die that way." Jeremy gritted his teeth. "You couldn't get away with such things!"

The Commander stared into Jeremy's eyes. "We have, we are, and we will again. Now are we clear?"

Jeremy bore into the Commander's eyes. If the man was bluffing, he couldn't tell. Nor could he take the chance he wasn't. "You're clear. I'll cooperate."

"Good." He handed Jeremy the cowl.

Jeremy slipped it over his head and leaned back. The ring was snuggled down upon his head. He whispered in hopes they wouldn't pick up they words, but the mask would. "Suit, appear here as Astro Man."

The room dimmed, then reappeared, except he now stood to the side of the chair watching his body breathing in front of him. Feet scurried behind him. "Hand's up!"

Jeremy raised his hands. He saw fingers wrap around his gun and then yank it from its holster. The soldier held the ray gun in his hand. A slight smile spread over the man's lips.

Jeremy nodded at the gun. "Careful with that, dude. Whatever you do, don't pull the trigger."

The Commander jumped to the soldier and pulled it from his hands. He turned it over as he examined it. "Why? What would happen."

Jeremy forced a grin to stay hidden. "Trust me. The last thing you want to do is pull that trigger."

The Commander continued to scan the gun. "Sargent, start the energy trace from the body to the virtual body."

"Sir, yes, sir." Several of the men turned back to their work.

The Commander lifted the gun's barrel and rested it over his extended left arm. He pointed it at the far wall where stood a two-feet thick titanium three by three foot wall. A blackened area covered the center of the metal wall as if lasers had hit it countless times.

"Sir, do you think that is a good idea? We should interrogate the prisoner first to know what it does."

The Commander turned and stared at the officer for a long five seconds before responding. "You're out of line, soldier. This is a ray gun. This dial on top sets the strength. Anyone can see that."

The soldier shrank back to this table. Another officer called out, "Yes, sir. But I saw--"

The Commander ignored the officer and pulled the trigger. The last setting Jeremy had used being the light blast with the camera crew, the room filled with a blinding light. Rifles clattered to the floor as everyone hid from the light.

Jeremy, protected by his helmet's visor, dove to his ray gun falling from the Commander's hand, caught it in midair, spun around, and landed on his back. He flipped the gun to the stun ray before anyone could regain their sight or respond, and spun himself around on the floor, dropping everyone in the room with a series of thuds and clanks.

"Suit, appear here as Inviso Dude." The room darkened and returned with the bluish glow of the invisibility field. He leaped to his feet and grabbed Bridget and Mickey's mask from the table, then scooped up his own body lying in the chair and flopped it over his shoulder. "Man, I've got to lose some weight."

Jeremy stopped by the Commanders unconscious body. "I told you, you didn't want to pull that trigger." He wondered if the Commander had ever read the story of Briar Rabbit. And he thanked God that the Commander was numbered among the men who didn't think they needed to read the instructions.

With the invisibility field cloaking both his virtual and real body, he stepped through the door, down the hallway, and into Mickey's cell. He pulled Mickey's mask from his pocket and threw it onto the cot.

Mickey stopped his pacing and jumped. "What the..." His eyes widened. "Bucko?"

"Put it on, Mick, grab your body once you've gone virtual, and then hold onto me. I'll extend the invisibility shield around you so we can walk through the door."

Mickey flopped onto his cot and yanked the mask on. "Suit, appear here as Blue Nova." Blue Nova materialized beside the cot. He pulled his body onto his shoulder, grabbed hold of Jeremy's arm, and became invisible. Jeremy headed for the wall and they stepped into Bridget's cell.

"Sis, put this on." He threw her mask onto the cot. She smiled and jumped up clapping. She put on the mask and became Comet Girl. Jeremy knelt down and pulled Bridget's limp body onto his other shoulder. "Hold onto me everyone. We have one more person to get. They walked through the next wall and into Uncle George's cell. Uncle George latched onto the chain of people. Jeremy could feel the energy drain on him. "Quick, though this door. I can't hold the field much longer."

Jeremy kept his focus on the energizing the field as they entered the hallway. They released Jeremy, causing Bridget, Uncle George, and Mickey holding his body to become visible again. Jeremy breathed easier.

Mickey glanced down each hallway. "Now how do we get out of here? Wherever here is."

The sound of footsteps sounded down the hallway. Jeremy frowned though no one could see it. "I think they've discovered my breakout. Mickey, give me your body and do a quick recon. Knock out the soldiers coming, and find out where the way out is."

"You're wish is my command." He slipped his body to Jeremy, who piled it on top of his own. Jeremy thanked Holbreth for giving Inviso Dude super human strength.

Mickey sped away into a blur. Jeremy motioned to the rest. "Follow me this way. Comet Girl, scatter some knockout comet dust behind us. Mickey won't be affected by it because he's going too fast."

She nodded. "One dose of sleeping dust, coming up." As Jeremy led Uncle George down the hall away from the coming boots, Bridget extended her hand and scattered dust into the air as she walked backwards.

Sounds of grunts and guns clattering to the floor echoed down the hall. Jeremy doubted they ever saw Blue Nova hit them. Uncle George glanced back. "Is he all right?"

"He's fine. Don't worry about him." Jeremy rounded a corner to find four soldiers pointing rifles at them. Before Bridget could follow him, Jeremy yelled, "Back!" Bullets whizzed harmlessly through him. "Comet Girl, send dust this way."

Bridget stuck her hands around the corner and showered the men with dust. They collapsed onto the floor. Jeremy said, "It's clear." The pair followed him again.

A steel door loomed in front of them. A blue streak stopped in front of Jeremy and Blue Nova appeared. "It must be this way. I checked a few hundred bunk rooms, eating rooms, bathrooms, rec rooms, laboratories, cells, etc., and they were all dead ends."

"Very well." Jeremy stepped through the door and examined the area beyond it. A hanger greeted him dotted with jets. Multiple soldiers worked on the aircraft and guarded the area. A big door that Jeremy bet led outside stood on one side of the massive walls.

Jeremy stepped back into the hallway. "This is certainly the way out. But there are a lot of soldiers on the other side of this door. I'll step you through, Blue Nova, then you can take out as many as possible while I break a hole through this door and we can escape."

Mickey nodded. "Let's do this."

Jeremy held onto Mickey's shoulder until he was through the door, then released him. He watched a moment as Mickey zoomed from person to person, knocking them out with a hit to the head. Jeremy pulled back into the hallway.

"Suit, appear here as Astro Man." The hallway faded to black immediately returned, but seen through the visor of his helmet. "Now I'll use my gravity ray to blow a hole in this door. Stand back, you two." He reached for his gun.

"Halt!" the Commander's voice rang out.

Jeremy jerked his head around. His gut twisted at the sight. The Commander stood, arms crossed, surrounded by ten soldiers pointing rifles at Bridget, himself, and Uncle George.

"Deactivate your virtual personas now, or I'll fire on your uncle." The Commander's eyes bore down upon Jeremy, daring him to disobey.

Jeremy glanced at Uncle George. Uncle George stared at the rifles with wide eyes and backed up against the wall. Jeremy checked on Bridget. She'd closed her eyes and bowed her head as if admitting defeat. He knew there was no way he could pull his gun fast enough to initiate the force field or take any action before they pulled the trigger. And Blue Nova, trapped on the other side of the door, couldn't help either.

"Now, Jeremy!" The Commander lifted his hand to give the order.

Jeremy held up a hand. "Okay, you win." He breathed deep. "Suit--"

A blast of light filled the small hallway. A force knocked Jeremy off his feet. His helmet's visor protected him from the light, but he flew through the air, slammed against the wall and crumbled to the floor. The helmet had protected his head from serious injury, but his body felt like it had been hit with a giant hammer. The force rebounding off the door smashed into Jeremy's body and shoved him ten feet across the hall. Every bone in his body ached, and he could barely move.

"BJ, I mean, Astro Man, are you all right?"

Jeremy felt a hand on his head. He cracked an eye open to see a blurry Comet Girl standing over him. "Was that you?"

"Uh hu. Sorry I couldn't protect you, but I felt keeping a protecting field over Uncle George and our bodies was more important."

Jeremy nodded. "I'll reset myself. Suit, appear here as Astro Man." The room faded and with it, the pain. It reappeared and now he could see clearly and felt strong. He hopped to his feet and examined the pile of unconscious bodies. "Comet Girl sure knows how to pack a punch."

Bridget giggled. Uncle George rubbed her head. "You can say that again."

Jeremy pulled the ray gun from its holster and dialed in the gravity ray. He pointed it at the door and pulled the trigger. It burrowed into the metal, and a red glow spread across the door as the beam dissolved the molecular cohesion, disintegrating a hole into the thick metal.

Blue Nova flashed to a stop in front of Jeremy. "About time. What took ya?"

Jeremy pointed at the pile of men. "Needed to clean up after ourselves."

Mickey smiled and slapped Jeremy on the shoulder. "Way to go, Bucko. That'll teach 'em."

"It wasn't me. Thank Comet Girl here. I was ready to surrender."

Mickey tussled her hair. "I should have known when I heard an explosion in here." He turned back to Jeremy. "But now what?"

"First, let's get out of here. No doubt they have cameras all over this place. We can't discuss plans here. You take yours and Bridget's bodies. I'll take Uncle George's and my body in my ship. Comet Girl can fly. We'll meet again once we are clear of this place and figure out where to go from there."

Mickey nodded. "Sounds good. Let's do this."

Bridget gave a thumbs up. "Yes. Let's."

Uncle George said, "Anything to get out of here."

Mickey picked up his and Bridget's bodies, and Jeremy grabbed his own while Uncle George and Bridget followed him through the doorway. "Watch your step. The edges of the door are still hot."

Once into the hanger, Jeremy called out, "Suit, call ship." A dark jet-like aircraft materialized in the center of the hanger. The wings slicked back and pointed upwards at the tips. The rear tale marked the shape of a V. The glass hatch raised open from the back where the ship's nose narrowed to a point and angled slightly downward. Uncle George crawled into the back seat.

Jeremy settled his body into Uncle George's lap. "Sorry for the tight quarters, Uncle."

"Just get us out of here."

Jeremy saluted. "Sir, yes, sir." Then he hopped into the pilot's seat and lowered the hatch. After firing up the space jet, it rose from the ground. Jeremy aimed the ship's gravity ray and blasted the hanger doors. A red glow spread from the center followed by the disappearing wall. Sunlight poured in as the hole grew. Jeremy shoved the throttle forward. The ship accelerated toward the door and into the air of freedom.

Jeremy engaged the radio in his suit. "Mickey, I'm going to send the government a Christmas present. Give me a minute."

"Gotcha."

Jeremy banked and came back around to the hanger door. He flipped the ship's camera on and filmed the smoke rising from the side of a mountain. As he dove back into the hanger, slowed to a stop, hoovered around, and then blasted back out, he added the following audio narrative:

"Dear Mr. President and members of Congress. What you are seeing here is the secret base of a hidden military unit, or so I've been told. They kidnapped Astro Man, Blue Nova, and Comet Girl in order to steal our power. I was told you do not know of this unit, that it doesn't exist in the books. And they threatened to ignore our constitutional rights upon capturing us. Even threatening to kill innocent civilians if we didn't cooperate. You can see the coordinates displayed on the video of the site's location. I'm sure you'll figure out how to proceed with this information. Thank you."

Jeremy saved the file, then addressed an email to the president, top cabinet members, and key members of congress, attached the video, and hit send. Jeremy couldn't help but grin. Even if some were in on the plot, now that it was exposed it would die a quick death. And if it was truly a hidden organization, investigations and prosecutions were sure to follow.

Jeremy opened up the radio. "Blue Nova and Comet Girl. Operation Christmas Gift has been completed."

"What was the gift?" Mickey responded.

"The gift of truth. When truth is born, its light forces changes. Usually big changes. Just like it did almost two thousand and fifty years ago." Jeremy smiled. "See that plateau I'm headed to?"

"Yes."

"We'll all met there. We can't return to our homes now. We'll have to take our bodies to Titan and figure out a plan of attack from there. We'll discuss the details on the plateau."

"Will do."

Jeremy focused as he angled the ship for a landing. Now he not only had lost his normal life and his parents because of these powers, he'd lost the last semblance of normalcy he had left: a home.

Jeremy felt Uncle George's hand on his shoulder. "Jeremy, you've done good. I'm right proud of ya."

Jeremy smiled. He hadn't lost everything. He still had family and friends. And that mattered more than being normal. Now that was a real Christmas gift.

"Merry Christmas, Uncle. I love you too."

The preceding story comes from the world of Mind Game, and Hero Game, the next novel in the series expected in the Spring of 2012. Click the link to learn more about the series and to discover where you can buy Mind Game for yourself or as a gift. Ebooks in all formats available.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Christmas Hope

I contemplated writing another Christmas themed fiction to post here on my blog as a gift to my readers, like I did last year. Several appeared to appreciate that story, so I thought it would be something good to continue. But I decided today to do something a little different, and a little more personal for my Christmas blog post. I decided to tell about a special Christmas in my life.

What made it special? Really, it is what happened before that. I went into one of the worst depressions of my life. I don't get depressed all that often, but in 1988, several events conspired to drag me down.

One impending issue was my ministerial license. I had graduated from college in 1984. Four years later I hadn't gone to seminary nor had I become a pastor. When I met with the district board that year, they told me that if I hadn't either headed to seminary or found a pastorate, they wouldn't renew my license the following year.

Problem was, I had no luck getting a pastorate. Went to a few interviews, but nothing had ever materialized. And I had a mobile home that I couldn't seem to sell, even though I had tried for a couple of years. Until I came out from under that, there was no way to pull up roots and go to seminary in Kansas City, MO. So as the year marched on, and I knew I would be facing the board again the following year, the threat of losing my license and all that I had gone to college for pressed in upon me.

On top of that, I worked at a job that hadn't kept up with the bills. Each month I sat down to decide who would get paid and who would have to wait. This situation had gone on for at least three years. There were times I would think I was about to climb out of the hole, only to have something happen that shoved me back down. By the fall of 1988, I had grown weary of struggling with the bills, and began to believe that I would never get out of this downward financial spiral. The constant pressure and self-doubt of not being able to pay my bills began to get to me.

I also had some negative things happen at church that ate away at my self-esteem. Our young adult group did a monthly get together, where one family would plan it and get the goodies together each month. These were always well attended and fun. When it was our turn, I planned this fun seeking for clues. They would get an envelope with a clue in it, which would lead to the next clue, and the next, and so on until they found the prize. The task was to see who could get to it first. The night arrived, and no one except the Sunday School teacher showed up. Everyone had an excuse. I had felt an underlying sense of people didn't take me seriously, or respect that I could take on something and make it work from some previous events that had happened. But that night I felt I could no longer ignore the reality that no one in that church believed I could head up a function and make it work well. No one wanted to attend anything that I planned or taught.  And the pity that came later as some found out what happened didn't help any either. I couldn't get past the thought that they only did it because they felt bad about what they really felt inside about me. The cat was out of the bag, and they felt guilty about it. But out of the bag nonetheless.

To make matters worse, my wife had become pregnant the year before. Yes, that overall is a good thing.  And I wouldn't trade my son for anything. But at the time my wife dealt with sickness all through her pregnancy. Her desire for any intimate relationship, whether that be hugging or more, had gone out the window. I struggled through her pregnancy that year until my son was born on September 9, 1988. I expected her to finally get better and be able to emotionally support me as those other issues rushed toward me.

But I had already gone into a depression of sorts by then, even though at the time I didn't realize it. Because of that, she didn't want to be around me because I was so depressing. She didn't want to get sucked into my depression, so she withdrew. Which, or course, only made my depression worse. I didn't feel connected to her at all.

As if that wasn't enough, one month after my wife gave birth, her gall bladder sent her into pains. She ended up in the hospital, getting her gall bladder taken out. I had to take care of my three year old daughter and the new baby while she went under the knife and recuperated. Thankfully, her sister who lived nearby was able to help me out. Don't know how I would have made it. I was in the situation of expecting to be the strong one, and I didn't feel strong at all. I felt helpless, overwhelmed, and sinking fast.

By the time she returned home in mid-October of that year, I hit rock bottom. I felt I would lose my license and would never pastor a church. The bills would spiral out of control and flush me financially down the toilet. My wife would hate to be around me and hold me at arms length forever! I knew in my mind these things weren't necessarily true, but at that point it felt like they were. And that's what mattered as far as my depression went.

When November arrived, I had lost all hope that these things would improve. Literally. I was doomed. It was all going to come crashing in upon me, wave after wave. What did I do? I crashed and burned. All motivation to do anything disappeared. I dropped all responsibilities at church. Just stopped doing them. I couldn't bring myself to open the checkbook and write bills to pay what we could. I had to show my wife how to do it because I simply couldn't. I couldn't do anything, and now everyone could see just how worthless I was. I struggled to even go to work, but at least I did that much.

Now, I'm sure in the grand scheme of things others have had worse depressions than I had that year. But if you've been in one, that matters little because to the one in a depression, everything is bleak, horrible, and the worst it can get, all the while knowing that it will get still worse. So I'm not saying all this to say "my depression was worse than yours, na na ney boo boo!" No, simply that I was in a deep depression. Never had one that worse before then, nor since, though I've had some minor ones since then.

Then December arrived. Christmas music filled the air. Nativity scenes and lights popped up everywhere. The spirit of Christmas nibbled at my heart. Now I know for many, Christmas tends to be one of the more depressing times of the year due to the loss of loved ones, or some tragic event that happened around that time. Some this year will experience their first Christmas without someone dear to them. I'm not belittling that at all. Those are real feelings. I'm not saying deny those or hide them.

But, as Christmas moved closer, I noticed something happening in my heart. And the only way I can describe it is hope. As Christmas approached, I focused on Christ, and what His birth meant to the world, and to me. As I did that, I felt the hopelessness I had experienced the previous few months evaporate in the face of His reality. Hope was born anew in my soul. Literally, by the time Christmas arrived, I felt joy in my heart, and no longer felt depressed. It was as if the world brightened, and I felt at peace about the future, simply because He was there. Alive. Born in a manger so many years ago, but born in my heart, and His hope renewed in my life. How could I not be happy?

What changed? I still didn't have enough money to pay the bills. I still felt the threat of losing my ministerial license the coming spring. I still couldn't sell my mobile home. My wife hadn't at that point indicated any further desire to be with me other than what she had to be. Nothing exterior had changed around me. The same events that pushed me into depression were still there. But I had changed. I began to hope again. Hope that Jesus was enough, and He would get me through whatever would happen. He was in charge.

Well, I hate to make this sound like that alone fixed everything, but it just about did. Because I was no longer depressed, my wife started wanting to be around me. Her desire for me even returned, after over a year of minimal physical contact or desire to be with each other. A couple from our church heard we had a mobile home for sale, and were getting married, and wanted to buy it. The money from the sale allowed me to go on a work and witness trip, and get caught up on all my bills. It also allowed me to start plans to go to Kansas City, so I could start attending seminary. In the month of January, 1989, all the issues that had sent me into depression were resolved. And while 1988 was the worst year of my life to that point, 1989 was the best and brightest year. I did move to Kansas City and start going to seminary. The new church I attended looked at me with respect, and I took on some task there that I succeeded wonderfully at. I kept my license and went on to pastor two churches and be ordained as a minister so I didn't have to renew every year. Life went from horrible to great, all because of a baby in a manger that gave me hope for the future.

I'm not saying have hope and all your problems will disappear. I've had more since then, and not all were totally solved at that point as well. But it didn't matter. He showed me that I shouldn't have to wait until I've hit rock bottom to learn to place the future into His hands. He'll take care of it. My duty is to do what He wants me to do. And to keep hope alive, because He was born into this world to establish that very hope, that our future is not one of death and destruction, but life and joy with Him.

May your Christmas this year be full of hope, given by the gift of Christ Himself, to us. Because of that, I can truly say, Merry Christmas!