Roadwalker
Monday, May 16, 2016
My blog has moved here.
Thanks for all the support you've given this site. This was an exercise in writing every week whether I had something to say or not. After a while, the topics became dry and I took a break. My Wordpress blog will not be updated as often and it is more dedicated to writing. Please take the time to visit, read and comment just like before.
Thank you for everything,
David
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Challenge to 2015 (Be Different)
Thursday, April 2, 2015
The Man with the Crown
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Writer's Update 2015
Sunday, December 21, 2014
The Reason for the Season
“What are you looking at?” Joe
asked his reflection in the water. The image of a brooding twenty-something
stared up at him over the bridge rail, rippling, breaking and reforming. The
water looked cold. His reflection looked just as broken and mixed up as he
felt. He wished he had a rock to throw in. He wished he had the courage to
jump. One might say it took more courage not to jump and just endure, but he
was not jumping mostly because that water looked icy cold. That, and he wasn’t
really that miserable, was he?
He pushed back from the cold railing and looked across the bridge both
ways. Empty. Not even a vehicle. Why did he think that there would even be
another pedestrian? Everyone was home or in church doing Christmas Eve stuff.
Even the shops were closed tonight. Stupid little town with its little
population. Stupid December.
He looked back at the dark water below with the rippling figure looking
up at him. He knew he wouldn’t have the courage to climb over the rail and…
then what? Let go? No, the water was cold. And you know what? He still had
friends and a family. Parents who thought he would be born on Christmas so they
picked out the name Joseph and went ahead and named him that when he was born
weeks early. A big brother whose birthday was in May. Did it get any better
than May? What was worse than a December birthday? Well, a December birthday
for a young adult was worse. Too old to have a fuss made. He wasn’t a little
kid anymore. Christmas would just be worse. What did it matter now?
What did anything matter? What was tomorrow, other than another cold day
in a cold month in a cold year of a cold life?
Joe pulled off his coat and dropped
it on the ground. But then he thought that if he did jump, then the coat would
be better to have on and weigh him down.
What was he thinking? He leaned hard on the railing, looked down at the
reflection and asked: “What are you thinking?”
“What are you thinking?” said a voice behind him.
Joe whirled around and there was an old man next to him. He had a
scraggly white beard and was not much taller than Joe. He was bundled in a long
brown overcoat and an old aviator’s fur cap, complete with goggles over his
forehead. He stood there looking like an old war flying ace at Joe with the
kind of smile someone has when they’re about to reveal a secret.
“Wow, you scared me,” Joe said. “Where’d you come from?”
“What are you doing?” the man asked. He looked over the bridge railing
as if to see if Joe was looking at something in particular. Then he nodded as
if in understanding.
“No, I wasn’t going to jump,” Joe said. “I just came out here to think,
okay?”
“Of course,” the man said. “I’m Donavan.” His voice was gravelly and
careworn. He extended a gloved hand.
Joe gave it a shake. The man’s grip
was like a football player’s and he almost winced.
“Sorry,” Donavan said. “It feels
good to shake hands with someone.”
Joe looked him over. The man was
dressed in old clothes but they looked warm. He had all his teeth and he didn’t
look like the stereotypical alkies that hung around town. He still might be
homeless. Might as well ask.
“Have you got a place to go
tonight?” Joe asked.
“As a matter of fact I do,” Donavan
said.
“I mean, like a home? Or a shelter?”
The old man nodded. “I have a
place,” he said. “But right now? I’m supposed to be here, Joe.”
Joe backed up a step. “Did someone
send you to look for me?” he asked. “Is that how you know my name?”
Donavan nodded. “Not who you
think,” he said.
Joe stared at him. He heard the
rushing water below him and felt the cold wind on his nose.
“This isn’t funny,” he finally
said. “Coming out and doing something like this. Just because I’m on a bridge
on Christmas Eve, you think you can come out and do a “It’s a Wonderful Life”
on me or something? What, are you going to tell me that you’re an angel? Are
you going to tell me that I’m going to be visited by three ghosts tonight?”
Donavan had been smiling but then
frowned. “You’re mixing up your Christmas stories there, Joe,” he said, then he
laughed. “The guy on the bridge was given a look at what the world would be
like if he had never been born.”
“Yeah,” Joe said. He turned from
the rail and stared walking. “I’m going home now. Let’s just say you saved me
from jumping and I’ll be all happy and… and ‘the end’, okay?”
He took several steps and turned
around. Donavan just stood and stared, not following. He smiled and raised his
hand in a little wave of: yes, I’m still here. Who sent him? How did this man
know his name?
“Why did you come out here?” Joe
asked.
“Why did you?” Donavan asked back.
Joe was about to say how he just
wanted to come out to think, but he stopped. This stranger was here, who knew
if he’d see him again? So he walked back and told him how he had just had a bad
month. He had graduated high school a year and a half back and was trying to
figure out what to do with his life. He was still living at home. The world
seemed to be just going on without him and he felt disconnected. And his
birthday had been a disappointment.
“I know it’s selfish and
everything,” Joe said. “But I miss being a kid and having a fuss made over me.
And Christmas will be the same thing, you know? It’s just not fun anymore. I
know it’s wrong to feel this way, but… I don’t know, it’s just getting me
down.”
“I hear you,” Donavan said. “This
time of year gets people down, Joe. It happens to a lot of us.”
Joe nodded and looked at the water
below. Donavan’s reflection stood next to his. “I hate Christmas,” Joe
muttered.
“So you’re the type who needs to be
visited by the ghosts,” Donavan said. “To find the true meaning of Christmas.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Okay then.”
Joe smiled. “What are you going to
do? Snap your fingers and take me into Christmas past? Donavan, I know the true
meaning of Christmas.” He made finger quotes. “The ‘reason for the season’
right?”
For the first time, Donavan’s face
fell. “No you don’t,” he said. Then he turned impish. “Where would you want to
go if you could visit somewhere in time Joe? Christmas past?”
“Okay,” Joe said. “If you could do
it, send me to December 25th, year zero.”
Donavan opened his mouth, then
closed it. He grinned again. “Snap my fingers, right?” he said.
“Go for it,” Joe said. “Oh, and
take me to the fields outside of Bethlehem, right? If we traveled in time but
not space, you know this bridge would be gone?”
“So would the river,” Donavan said.
“Get your coat.”
As soon as Joe grabbed his coat
from the ground the air suddenly turned icy. The ground tilted. He fell over
backward into tall grass.
Joe barked in surprise and realized
that he felt terror as he scrambled to his feet. Everything was out of focus.
There was a blurry moon over head. He shook his head and watched his
surroundings pull into focus like adjusting a pair of binoculars.
He was standing on an empty
hillside. The stars and moon lit around him enough that he could see hills and
rocks. There were no buildings in sight. No sheep or shepherds either. The air
was colder and dryer here, but there was a cleanness to it. And he had never
seen so many stars.
A voice spoke behind him and he
fell again.
“Stop that!” Joe shouted. But it
wasn’t Donavan. This man was shorter and thinner than him, maybe about his age.
He had dark whiskers, not really a beard. He wore a long robe and something
like a turban on his head and he was holding what looked like a blanket. He
spoke again and Joe realized it wasn’t English.
Joe got to his feet again and
looked at the man. He could be a shepherd, or anyone from around here. But
where was here? Had he traveled in time and space?
“I fell off the bridge didn’t I?”
Joe said out loud.
The man shook his head.
“You understand me?” Joe asked stumbling forward. The ground was uneven
and rough.
“I thought you would like to hear Aramaic,” the man said. “For
authenticity, you know?”
“Donavan?”
“Call me Yeshua.”
“Okay, Yeshua. Where am I?”
“Right were you told Donavan to send you. These are the hills outside
Bethlehem. The Julian Calendar hasn’t been created yet but it’s four days after
the winter solstice, two-thousand, thirteen years earlier than it was before.”
Okay, Joe thought. He had fallen off the bridge. This was a drowning
hallucination. He was about to run out of oxygen and the last thing he was
seeing was this. He turned to his companion.
“So where are the shepherds?” he asked. “Is the angel about to appear?”
“No,” Yeshua said. “It’s winter here. The shepherds have moved to a
warmer climate for now.”
“They weren’t here?” Joe said. “But the angel came and… so wait, did
that not really happen?”
He saw Yeshua smile in the moonlight. “It happened right here, Joe.
Three summers ago. This hillside lit up like it was daytime. Angels brought the
message to the shepherds. They went to Bethlehem and saw the child just as they
had been told. But it didn’t happen on this day, this year.”
The man pointed off toward the hills. “He’s got the same name as me,” he
said. “It’s not an uncommon name. The family stayed there until just a short
time ago. Now he’s in Egypt.”
Joe nodded and pulled on his jacket. “Why did you bring me here then?”
“Besides it’s what you asked?” Yeshua said. “You need to know the reason
for the season. Let’s start by erasing some things. There are a lot of legends
surrounding the story of our Savior’s birth. This would be December 25th, year
zero. But it’s not his birthday. And it’s still early in the story. The Good
News has barely started to spread.”
It was very quiet then. Even the wind blew almost silently. Joe looked
at the hills in the clean white moonlight and tried to imagine sheep and
shepherds. Was this really the place? Yeshua sighed and lifted his arms. He let
go of the blanket and it dropped to the ground.
“Here is where the news was first told. Tidings of great joy. Glory to
God in the highest, and on Earth Peace. Goodwill to all men.”
He lowered his hands and picked up the blanket.
“That’s what Christmas is all about, Joe,” he said.
Joe felt laughter bubbling up inside him. What kind of dying vision was
this?
Yeshua held up his hand. “But,” he said. “It’s not the reason for the
season.”
“Jesus is the reason for the season,” Joe said.
“That sure sounds right. But no.”
Joe stood and looked at the night
sky. Whatever was happening, it seemed real. And he would just let it happen.
It was better than standing on a bridge looking at his reflection. He felt like
walking to Bethlehem. But the ground was difficult to walk on. He wasn’t
dressed right and he didn’t speak the language. Plus it was colder than he had
ever remembered feeling. And he knew there was more he wanted to see.
“Can we go now?” he asked.
Yeshua smiled. “To Christmas present?”
Joe nodded. “Sure,” he said. “Take me to the present, and show me what
there is there.”
“Someone else will be there to meet you,” Yeshua said.
“Right,” Joe said. “The ghost of Christmas Present. Well let’s go.”
He stumbled and fell again. The ground under him was flat and hard like
cement. Light was all around him, out of focus and swimming again.
Then he heard noise. There was a dull turmoil of voices, music and
commotion. The smells of people hit him next. He had only been on the clear
hillside for a short while, but now the odors were overwhelming. His vision
focused. It was a shopping mall. Decorations and lights were everywhere. People
seemed to move around and past him, paying no heed to a young man crumpled on
the floor. He wondered if they could even see him.
A big beaming man moved through the crowd. He had on a powder blue suit
and tie. His hair was a styled blond mop and he was carrying what looked like a
Bible.
“Praise the Lord, I say yes!” he trumpeted. His “yes” came out in more
than one syllable like a TV preacher. In fact, everything about this man said
TV preacher. He stopped at Joe and reached his hand down.
“Merry Christmas my brother!” he shouted. “Hallelujah!”
Joe let the man help him up. No-one else seemed to see him.
“Are you my…”
“I truly am your ghost of Christmas present, praise the Lord,” the man
said. “Brother Jed Rich at your service.”
Joe sighed. His mind must be fading fast to cook up an image like this.
“And you’re Joe,” Brother Jed went on. “Hallelujah, it’s good to meet
you. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” Joe mumbled. He looked around at burdened shoppers
rushing past. Children of all ages and all moods were everywhere. Kids were
singing and dancing alongside parents, others were wailing and being dragged.
Some moody looking teens stood outside a music store and surveyed the scene
with dramatic contempt.
“The mall, huh?” he asked. “I’m supposed to find the true meaning of
Christmas here?”
Brother Jed leaned back and smiled even wider. “What do you see?” he
asked.
“I see the season at its worst,” Joe said. “Sure people are happy, some
of them at least. But look at the commercialism. This is totally what Christmas
is not about.”
Brother Jed took Joe by the arm and they started to walk. He pointed
into shops where clerks looked exhausted. Lines extended out into walkways. A
family went by with the mom holding a crying baby and pushing a stroller full
of packages.
“Commerce,” Brother Jed said. “Christmas creates a large percentage of
business revenue for the whole year. Without the holiday season, merchants
couldn’t pay their workers. The economy would collapse.”
Joe walked along and waited for Brother Jed to go on. Any time now, he
ought to explain his point. Christmas was not about commerce. But Brother Jed
just kept walking.
Finally Joe stopped. “There’s no sign of anything Christmas here,” he
told Jed. “All the signs say ‘happy holidays’ or ‘season’s greetings’. The
music is secular. There are no decorations with anything about the real meaning
of Christmas.”
“Come along over here Joe,” Brother Jed said. “I want to show you
something.”
They walked up to a coffee shop and Brother Jed pointed to a window
display, then went into the shop. Joe looked in the window and saw a nativity.
Well that’s nice, Joe thought. Except wait, is that Santa Claus?
The nativity set in the window had painted plastic figurines. There was
Mary and Joseph, animals, Shepherds and Wise Men. And by the manger with the
Baby Jesus, there was a kneeling figure of Santa Claus, bowing in reverence.
Brother Jed came out of the store with two coffees and his Bible tucked
under his arm. He chuckled.
“I’m not sure I know what to think about that,” Joe said. “I don’t know
if it makes sense.”
Brother Jed handed Joe a coffee. “It will make sense,” he said and
sipped at his own cup.
“How did you get these?” Joe asked.
“That’s not important Joe. Look around. Tell me what you see.”
“Santa Claus at a manger. And look, someone also put in a robot figurine
too.”
Brother Jed turned and looked at the display. He pointed and laughed.
“It’s him,” he said. “Now turn around Joe. What do you see out there?”
Joe turned and looked at the mall.
“A bunch of people running around, buying stuff.”
“Me too. Is this Christmas to you?”
“No,” Joe said.
Brother Jed took a long drink. Finally he lowered his cup and kept his
eyes on Joe. “Really?” he said. “If you saw a picture of that, you would title
it: ‘A mall at Christmastime’, right?”
Joe nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted. “This is what Christmas has become.”
“Exactly!” Brother Jed exclaimed. “Hallelujah! This is what men have
created Joe. This is two-thousand, some-odd years from the night where nothing
happened on that hillside in Bethlehem, don’t you see? Let them celebrate and
spend money and do what they want to the holiday. Do you know what Joe?”
“What?”
“Praise Jesus!” Brother Jed thrust his arms in the air and coffee
splashed on the window behind him. “This isn’t what our Lord created, Brother.
It’s a creation of mankind. But no matter what idols they raise up, hallelujah,
they can’t ever lose the reason for the season! It’s all around us! It’s
everywhere!”
Joe took a drink of his coffee. It was perfect. The shoppers around him
had not seen Brother Jed’s shouting. He didn’t even get it himself. The mall
had seemed so frantic and miserable. But now, he didn’t know. Brother Jed’s
outpouring of joy had made everyone look just a little less depressing. Still,
he wasn’t sure what this cheerful man was going on about when he talked about
The Reason for the Season. And he felt that it should be obvious.
“Thanks for the coffee,” he said.
“My pleasure brother,” Jed said. “Now where are we off to now?”
“I don’t know. The future? Christmas to come?”
“Why not?” said Jed. He glanced at the nativity behind him, then back to
Joe. “Hang on to that coffee, I’ll just snap my fingers, right?”
“Yeah,” Joe said. “I guess this is goodbye. I’ll have another ghost to
show me around the next place?”
“That’s right,” Jed said. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“For me too,” said Joe, surprised to realize he meant it. “I didn’t
expect someone like you here.”
“Wait until you meet your next host, or ghost,” said Jed. And he burst
out laughing.
Joe gripped his coffee with both hands. If he fell again he wanted to be
ready. The mall went out of focus, and he began to sense he was outdoors.
Things were flying around.
I’m done falling down, Joe thought.
His vision swam and he crouched low to keep from falling. But he didn’t fall.
The ground under him eased into focus and he was standing on a bright sidewalk.
He heard whooshing sounds, almost like cars on wet pavement, but not quite. He
slowly raised his head and looked around.
He was in a city. Gleaming buildings of steel and glass towered into the
sky, pyramid shaped, rounded, and other unbelievable shaped that seemed to defy
gravity. Between the skyscrapers were lower buildings in the same artistic
designs connected by flowing pedestrian bridges.
And there were flying vehicles.
Lines of them were all over the sky moving at different speeds, the higher the
faster. The vehicles looked to be cars, trucks, busses and even tiny things
that might be motorcycles.
Close to Joe was what appeared to
be a landing area where flying cars touched down to whoosh away. Across the
road from him was an expanse of flat green grass with people walking or sitting
on benches or under trees.
“Fascinating,” said a voice next to him. “Is it not?”
Joe had felt too dazzled by what he saw to feel surprised by his
host-ghost sneaking up next to him. But when he turned and looked, he was
astounded.
Standing next to him was a full sized version of the robot he had seen
in the nativity display. It was a human shape, but made of some shining slivery
metal. The robot stood almost a foot taller than Joe with luminous eyes that
flashed red and green.
“Greetings Joe,” the robot said. “I am Roger, the Christmas Robot.”
Joe stared. He tried to think of something, anything to say. His idea
that this was some dying hallucination was harder to believe. Maybe this was
heaven now?
“Where am I?” he was able to say in a small voice.
“You are in Alpha City,” the robot said, not quite in a monotone. “The
Anchor City of the West Coast of what was once called North America.”
Joe watched a group of kids go by on flying skateboards. Each wore a
helmet with antennae. That’s when he noticed everyone had helmets or hats of
various sizes and styles with antennae.
“When is this?” Joe asked. “How far in the future is this?”
“Let us say that this is the twenty-third century.”
Joe kept looking around. The air felt almost as clean as it had on the
ancient hillside. People walked past him, in and out of nearby buildings.
No-one seemed frantic or stressed.
“Roger,” Joe said. “Is it Christmas?”
“Negative,” the robot said. “The holiday is no longer observed.”
Joe felt his heart sink. “Why?” he asked.
“Hunger and disease have been eradicated,” Roger explained. “The human
population has all of their needs met. But still, there are some who still
believe. Despite all of this satisfaction, Joe, people still call Jesus their
savior.”
"But no Christmas?"
"That holiday has faded into history."
"But there are believers?"
"They are underground, Joe. Oppressed, but strong. So very
strong."
Joe looked around. Then he saw them. A few people were walking toward
him and they looked a little different. They still had hats with antennae, but
as they got close, Joe could tell they were loose, just ornamental. A man about
Joe’s age smiled and let his eyes go to Joe’s uncovered head. He nodded.
“Hey,
brother,” he said.
Something
stirred in Joe’s heart. That meant more than what his skater friends would say.
He looked at the Robot.
“No religion,” he said. “So wait, why are you a Christmas Robot?”
Roger’s head spun completely around and looked back at Joe. “I am to
greet you here,” he said. “I am your host, do you not remember?”
“So,” Joe said. “There isn’t any Christmas in the future?”
Roger didn’t say anything. Joe kept looking at the robot, but it was
quiet and still.
“Roger?” Joe said.
“Do you like the future?” the robot asked.
Joe looked up and for the first time, noticed that there were people
flying in jet-packs. Four people flew low overhead and one of them, a little
girl, waved. Joe raised his hand in a wave.
“It’s pretty cool,” Joe said. “With no diseases or hunger. But no
Christmas?”
“Do you not feel that is an adequate trade-off?” the robot said. “No
more pain and suffering, people are happy and content.”
Joe walked to a bench and stood looking at it. It looked like it was
made of bubble wrap.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Christians are outlawed? What kind of future
is that?” He turned to sit on the bench and whooped in surprise as he found
himself sitting on the ground.
“Joe,” the robot said. “Can you not be taken anywhere without falling to
the ground?”
“I was just,” Joe said. “What happened to the bench?”
“It is not there.”
“I can see that now,” Joe said. “What kind of future has disappearing
seats?”
Roger moved to Joe and extended a metal hand. “Nothing here is real,” he
said.
Joe reached for the robot’s hand and missed. His hand passed through the
metal hand. He looked up at the robot, and then at everything around him.
“Nothing here is real? But back at the mall I drank coffee.”
“The present is real Joe,” said Roger. “But the future does not exist.”
Joe got to his feet. “So what’s all this?” he asked, gesturing around.
The robot followed Joe’s pointing. “It is but a vision of what you think
the future might be like,” he said. “But no-one knows what might happen years
from now. Humans can only speculate what the future may be like. But no-one
truly knows. Whether or not there will be jet-packs and flying cars in a
shining future or global Armageddon, we do not know.”
Joe looked at the flying cars. This had been what he thought the future
might look like. But it wasn’t definite.
“So this might not happen?” he asked.
“Difficult to see,” the robot said and its eyes flashed bright green.
“Always in motion is the future.”
Joe blinked at Roger. “But what does this have to do with the meaning of
Christmas?” he said.
“The reason for the season Joe,” Roger said and pointed with both hands.
“It is still here.”
Joe looked over the grassy park and saw a small group of people under a
tree gathered close. One of them was reading from a paper book. They still had
paper books?
The reason for the season. Joe nodded. “They can outlaw Him, but Jesus
is still here, right?”
“Joe, stop saying that Jesus is the reason for the season.”
Joe took in a gasp of air. He was back on the bridge. The future city
was gone and it was night again. His nose started running with the cold air. He
looked around for who had spoken. He had recognized the voice.
Joe looked around. The bridge was much darker than it had been however
long ago he had stood here. The sky was darker too and the clouds were low.
Still, someone was close by.
“Donavan?” Joe called.
“At your service,” the old man said. Now Joe saw that he was dressed
differently.
“Donavan,” he said. “You’re dressed as…”
“Only dressed as,” Donavan said. “Not him.”
Donavan stepped up to Joe. He was dressed as Santa Claus except for the
aviator cap and goggles on his head.
“Santa Claus is like the vision of the future you created,” Donavan
said. “Only as real as people’s imaginations and hopes.”
Joe looked around the bridge. It had warmed up since had stood here a
while ago. And now he noticed that the lights on the bridge were out. He looked
at Donavan and shrugged.
“So, is this the end?” he asked. “Am I supposed to wake up now and dance
for joy because I know the true meaning of Christmas?”
“You’re not supposed to do that Joe,” Donavan said. “And you’re not done
yet.”
“But we’re back, right?”
“Not quite,” Donavan said. “This is the present, in the way that it’s
just 20 years back from where we first started.”
Joe looked around the bridge again. The lights weren’t out, they just
weren’t there.
“Okay then,” he said. “What now?”
“What have we learned so far, Joe?”
“Well,” Joe said. “Jesus wasn’t born on Christmas, the malls are still
crowded and there might be no Christmas in the future.”
“Okay,” Donavan said. “We erased some misconceptions. We saw that man
has created what most of us know as Christmas, and you were shown that even if
Christmas didn’t exist, the Reason for the Season still would.”
“Ah,” Joe said. “That’s what we’ve learned today. And is there still
more to learn?”
Donavan smiled. He sighed and wrung the Santa hat in his hands. “Let me
tell you a story, Joe. Let’s walk.”
The turned away from the railing and started off toward town.
“Twenty years back,” Donavan began. “Well, where we are now, you see, I
was playing the part of Santa Claus for Christmas party. It was in the town
about 10 miles that way.” He pointed behind them. Joe knew the town.
“Kids were lined up and each would
come up to me. They asked for popular toys and for timeless things like dolls
and cars and building blocks, the usual. Then a little boy climbed up on my
lap. He was smiling and almost panting for joy, like he had waited all year for
this. He threw his arms around me. Joe, that’s why I took that job, for those
kinds of moments.”
They reached the end of the bridge and Donavan stopped and looked back
over as if seeing the town he’d been in 20 years ago.
“I asked the little boy what he wanted for Christmas,” he said. “And he
told me that he wanted his brother Brian to come back from Iraq. I asked him
why his brother was there and… And the boy told me his brother had gone there
two years ago, and didn’t come home.”
Donavan stood and looked at the hat twisted in his hands. “Mamma and
Daddy had told him his brother wasn’t coming back,” he said. “But he was asking
Santa Claus for his brother back. I didn’t know what to say. They train you for
things like this, tell the child that this is something he needs to talk to a
grownup they love about it. But they don’t train you for the shock and the
heartache. I almost started to cry right there Joe.”
Donavan dabbed his eyes with the hat and nodded. Then he continued. “I
told him that if Mamma and Daddy said Brian wasn’t coming back then he needed
to talk to them about it. And then the little boy told me that he had. He said
‘that’s what you told me last year.’ I didn’t get it at first. But then I
realized that the boy had asked Santa the year before. And the year before
that. Desert Storm had been two years
back. Joe, this little boy asked Santa Claus each year for his brother back.
And each year it didn’t happen. And then the boy would faithfully ask again.
His faith wasn’t shaken, he believed that he could just keep asking…”
Donavan’s voice broke. “And maybe this would be the year Brian came
back,” he said.
Joe watched the old Santa Claus bow his head and take a long, ragged
breath. Then Donavan looked back up.
“I took the boy off my lap,” he said. “And walked out. I left the
building and just started walking. All I could think about was how I didn’t
want to be the one who finally destroyed this little boy’s faith. The boy had
been so full of hope and joy. Sooner or later he would get that his brother
really wasn’t ever coming back and that his faith didn’t mean anything. I
didn’t want a part of it. So I just walked away.”
Donavan looked over Joe’s shoulder in the direction of the bridge. Then
he moved his hand in a beckoning gesture and started walking again. Joe caught
up and walked next to him.
“I walked out of town,” Donavan said. “Just trudged along in my Santa
suit, across the bridge and into the next town.”
They walked for a few minutes until they passed the gas station at the
edge of downtown. And there was the church. Donavan stopped and Joe stood next
to him.
“I got this far,” Donavan said. Then he started off toward the front of
the churchyard. Joe followed him.
There was a good crowd of people around in a circle with a soft light
shining. A few men were taking pictures. Donavan led Joe up to the crowd and
they found a gap and looked through. It was a live nativity. Children were
dressed as Christmas characters and gathered in a small open set that looked
like a stable. The scene seemed to have everything. There was Mary and Joseph,
shepherds, wise men and even children dressed as animals. A small choir of
angels stood nearby playing Silent Night on plastic recorders.
Donavan spoke quietly. “I stood looking
at the nativity, knowing that somehow it had to make sense. That the meaning of
Christmas was there somewhere. And then a young man came up and told me. He
shared his heart with me, and that’s all it took. I was so broken, Joe. But the
power of someone’s personal testimony is not to be taken lightly. God’s love
became real to me again. I got down on my knees right there and thanked The
Lord.”
Donavan had the warmest smile Joe had seen yet. He turned and pointed to
Mary and the baby she held.
“Of course Mary didn’t wear blue, the Magi didn’t appear at the birth,
but what does that matter. Look at the joy those kids have.”
The song on the recorders ended and
a girl dressed as an angel stepped up and began singing What Child is This?
And there Joe,” Donavan whispered.
He pointed to the baby. “That is the reason for the season.”
“Baby Jesus,” Joe whispered back. “That’s what I’ve been saying…”
There was a commotion in the crowd
and people moved back. Joe looked to see a man in a Santa suit stepping up to
the crowd. It was Donavan, looking the same as the other Donavan next to him
except for the aviator cap.
“That’s you,” Joe whispered.
Donavan nodded. “Twenty years ago,”
he said. “You need to go talk to me.”
“Wait, what?”
“He’s hurting. I’m hurting. It’s
that time of year that people hurt and forget the reason for the season.
Everyone here can see you, Joe. But not me, not this time. The me of twenty
years ago needs someone to talk to him. I need someone to tell me what you’ve
learned.”
“Donavan, I can’t do that,” Joe
said. “I don’t have the magic that you have. I can’t travel through time with
him.”
“You don’t need magic, Joe. Just
talk,” Donavan said. “Tell me the reason for the season.”
Joe stood with his feet planted on
the cold ground and looked from one Santa to the other. No. He was standing on
a bridge contemplating his life. This man showed up and then what? Had he
really traveled through time? Or was he at the bottom of the cold river right
now hallucinating this whole thing?
“The reason for the season,” Joe
said. “That baby Jesus Mary’s holding over there? Donavan, I don’t get it.”
Donavan was shaking his head. He
looked at the baby and back to Joe. Then Joe saw it was a real baby.
“That’s a real baby,” he whispered.
“Baby Jesus is real, is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
Donavan kept smiling. “Look at the
smallest shepherd,” he said.
Joe looked and he recognized his
brother.
“That’s Shaun,” he said. “Shaun at about
6 years old.”
Then Joe looked back at the baby in
Mary’s arms.
“Donavan,” he said. “Is that me?”
Donavan nodded. “You were just
three weeks old, but still a big healthy baby. They bundled you up good and let
you be in an outdoor live nativity, mostly for the photographers. But you were
so good they let you stay here for a bit.
Joe looked at the girl playing
Mary. She held him, the baby Joe, with smiling adoration.
“And there,” Donavan said. “Is the
reason for the season Joe.”
Joe nodded. He thought maybe he was
getting it.
Donavan turned and looked at him.
“Joe, God sent his son for us. Jesus was born here on Earth to save us. Us,
Joe. In the heart of God, we are the reason for the season.”
Joe felt a warmth shiver up through
him as he looked at the baby in Mary’s arms.
“He came for you Joe,” Donavan
said. “You are the reason for the season.”
Joe watched the children try to
ignore the photographers. And he looked at the baby in Mary’s arms. That was
him.
“You are the reason for the season, Joe.”
Donavan said. “So am I. Just share the truth. Then you will be leaning on the
railing again and no time will have passed.”
Joe looked at Donavan. “Did this
really happen?” he asked. “Are you an angel? How did this all…”
Donavan waved his hand in
dismissal.
“I’m a man like you,” he said. “And
some things, we are just to take in faith and believe. You’ve been shown a lot.
You’re a changed man. Don’t ever forget what you’ve seen and learned.”
Donavan stepped away from the crowd
and began to walk toward the street. He held up a hand to stop Joe from
following.
“Every person in that mall, every
person in the past and future, all they need to do is confess their sins, call
God their Father and then they are his child. They are all why God sent His
son.” He pointed to the other Santa with
the anguished expression. “Him too,” he said. “Now step out and share the good
news.”
He smiled and waved. Then Donavan
turned and walked away, not turning back.
Joe watched, then turned toward the
nativity. Through the crowd he could just see the baby. The reason for the
season. He was the reason for the season. God loved him that much.
We are the Reason for the Season.
We can all be his children.
I am his child. I am the Reason for
the Season.
The thought brought him a joy that
he realized he had to share. Joe took a few steps through the crowd and they
indeed parted for him. They all seemed to be trying to ignore the Santa Claus
who looked about to cry. Joe put an arm around the man and pulled him into an
embrace.
“Hey brother,” Joe said. “Do you
know the Reason for the Season?”
Not long after, the man dressed as
Santa knelt at the manger with the children surrounding him. Joe stepped back
and looked at him and every person around. They were all the reason for the
season. Every child of God was.
He saw the bridge, lit up this
time, begin to fade into focus in front of him and finally he stood alone with
his coat in his arms. Smiling, he turned and headed home with good news to
share.