“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. And his reflection looked just
as cold 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 splintery 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 rushing black water below him with the 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 was not much taller
than Joe with a scraggly white beard. 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 you did,” 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 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 of 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. The sheep are kept in barns when it’s this cold.”
“What
about the angel?” Joe said. “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. Shepherds heard the message of
the angels and went to Bethlehem and saw the child they had been told about.
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 drifted 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 level 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 walked 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.
“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. Spaced far apart, 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 with pedestrian bridges connecting them.
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 and crept
along the ground. 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.
“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. They no longer have the need for the belief in a higher
power.”
“Oh
no,” Joe said. Then he looked at the robot. “So wait, why are you a Christmas
Robot?”
Roger’s
head spun completely around and looked back at Joe. “I was manufactured 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 feeble 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. “No-one believes in God anymore? 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.”
The
reason for the season. Joe nodded. “They can refuse to believe, but Jesus is
still here?”
“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 figure called and stepped closer. Now Joe saw that he was
dressed differently.
“Donavan,”
he said. “You’re dressed as…”
“Dressed
as,” Donavan said. “Not him.”
Donavan
stood next to Joe dressed as Santa Claus. All at but the Santa hat that he held
in his hand. He still had 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 awhile 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?”
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. “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, 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.”
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 small 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
singing “What Child is this?”
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 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.”
Joe saw a girl
dresses as an angel smiling with utter joy.
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.”
“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,” he 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, they are all His children. 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.
Joe watched him
walk, not turning back. Then he 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.
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.
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