Christmas Shorts

Jolly Hollow Day

Jolly Hollow Day

A cold mist had settled itself uncertainly outside – he could see it through the frosted window. It made the front yard as foggy as his mind. Here he was at his parents' house on Christmas eve, midst the laughter, caroling, decorations and festivities, and his whole being felt numb.

Herald sipped his warm mug of tea, but it was almost tasteless on his tongue – his hands felt frigid against the ceramic, despite the fact that it had just been heated. He looked around the room and saw his family smiling, chatting about life, and enjoying a modern rendition of Jingle Bells playing on the radio.

Why was he so morose?

Why couldn't he let himself enjoy the holiday? He always had fond memories of the Christmas season – the magical moments of snow, the anticipation of Christmas Eve, the wonderful times of making gingerbread cookies with his mother. Now that he was an adult, he wondered if the novelty of Christmas was lost. Even if it was, that fact did not explain why he felt so empty on this particular evening. Maybe it was the fact that he felt Christmas brought on an almost forced joy – an expectation that demanded: you will be happy whether you like it or NOT.

But, his life was okay, wasn't it? He had a job, an apartment, a decent monthly budget...life was going well. Yet, he couldn't shake this strange mood that came over him, and he shivered despite the warmth of the well-tended fire place.

Herald looked over at the sizable tree, lit with all manner of colored lights, and stared pensively at the green pine adorned with elves, orbs and third grade art projects.

And then...

...it came on so suddenly, so naturally, he was shocked he didn't cry out in utter shock at the absurdity of it – there before him, appearing in his mind's eye, was a familiar figure in a red suit, with a great white beard, and a heavy sack. Herald had always seen pictures of Santa with kind, joyous eyes, and a jolly smile to put even the grumpiest of children at ease. This St. Nick had a tired look in his mournful eyes, and thick beads of sweat covering his pale cheeks. He was trying hard to make the people in the room happy – putting trinkets in stockings, setting the ornaments at the perfect angle, and attempting to laugh merrily. But it was all so...hollow, as if he was made of paper-mache, ready to cave in at the slightest touch.

Herald's family continued to talk and laugh, unaware of the red-coated visitor. Herald saw it – the sadness reflected in all of their eyes, as they performed their own private holiday play, with masks to hide their sallow faces

Then, he saw his own shadow arise, and touch the tree – it turned to ash, and spread over the ornately wrapped present. The shadow opened the gifts, but they were empty, except for thick clouds of dust that swirled around to choke him.

He couldn't take it anymore. He put down his mug, and left the room, confusion swirling around his head like a cold funnel cloud filled with unhappy snow.

He found himself in his old room – his parents had turned it into an office, so it provided no familiar comforts of his childhood. That is, until he spied his old treasure chest. It was a wooden box modeled after the sunken treasure seen in pirate movies.

He knelt down beside it, and slowly opened the old, worn lid. Amongst the trinkets his parents kept from his young years lay a dusty book. When he laid eyes on it, he felt the strong grip of a timeless battle for his soul reach up and take hold of his being.

For most of his adult life he hardly ever gave God a thought. He had attended Sunday school as a child, and still remembered the message of salvation, but he always wrote it off as simple children's stories. His parents had stopped going to church when he was still young, and thus ended his interest in spirituality. Despite that, he always kept the Bible that his Sunday school teacher had given him – something about it spoke to him of importance, even if he never delved deeper.

And despite the chasm of years, the message that he had been taught as a child came flooding back into his mind clearer than ever before. That was what Christmas was missing; what his LIFE was missing – Jesus was not a plump little clay figurine in a cradle – he was the answer to the question of reality...the culmination of the search.

Herald clutched the Bible to his chest, and saw the light and darkness battling before him, as if a movie was being projected on the wall, originating from a place deep within his troubled recesses. He shut his eyes, and opened his heart.

"Hello God," he said aloud. "I know what I need – it's YOU in my life. Thank you for bringing this struggle to my mind, so I could realize what I am missing. Please forgive me...make me your child...help me to live like you want me to."

And in that moment, he felt the weight of a thousand worries lift up into the eager hands of God. A true peace descended on him. He knew it wasn't just his emotions that brought on this change, but the power of the divine in response to his faith.

Herald jumped up excitedly and walked briskly downstairs, his old Bible still in his grasp. When he came into the room where his family was sitting, he froze in awe. There was another vision for his eyes to see. It was a man, dressed in a simple white tunic, with long brown hair, and a genuine smile. Jesus was sitting there, on the couch, giving Herald a beaming face of joy. Because of his acceptance, the symbol of salvation was here with Herald – and he hoped his family would accept him as well.

His family then noticed herald standing there, and his father asked, "Are you alright, Herald? You seemed pretty upset a moment ago before you left the room."

"I was feeling down," he told them. "But I am MUCH better now."

They waited for further explanation.

Herald showed them the Bible he found in his treasure chest. "I would love to honor a tradition that we haven't revisited since I was a small child: reading the Christmas Story."

One of Herald's nephews rolled his eyes. "Awww, do we HAVE to? That sounds boring."

Herald's mother clucked her tongue at the youngster, and then told Herald, "Of course we will! That sounds like a lovely idea."

And so, Herald sat next to his vision of the Savior, and read about the birth of Jesus from the book of Luke.

After he was done, there was such a vibrant glow around the room.

"Thank you for that," said one of his aunts. "I haven't heard that charming tale for many year."

"You're welcome," he said. "But to me, it has become more than just a good story. It is the truth of my redemption."

"And on that serious note," said his mother with a nervous laugh. "I better take the turkey out of the oven."

Herald didn't push the issue any further. He would wait for the right time to tell them more about his experience. For the time being, he would let himself ENJOY Christmas, and his family's company.

Everything about the Holiday now seemed to be filled with joy and purpose - no longer hollow. The cocoa he sipped before dinner filled him with warmth. The music playing made his heart light, and gave him the thought of his own new life-melody. The dinner he ate made him thankful for the many blessings he had been given.

The Christmas tree and the wreaths made him thankful for God's gift of nature. The vivid lights hung in and outside the house spoke of the wondrous creativity given to man. Every present he unwrapped made him grateful for the gifts God had given him, both physical and intangible.

Even the cold, foggy front yard seemed exquisite rather than harsh. The holiday was wondrous when put into context of God's true purpose and meaning.

When the night was drawing to a close, Herald's family joined in together in a Christmas song, there in the living room, by the cozy fireplace. The vision of Jesus remained, singing with them.

Herald chuckled to himself when he saw Old Saint Nick, restored to his former rosy-cheeked, jolly self. The red cloaked symbol of festive holiday spirit started to go up the chimney, but not before giving Herald a knowing wink, as if to say, "I leave you in good hands."