I hope you had a warm and wonderful holiday. We here at bradenbell.com had a delightful and truly blessed holiday--filled with all the joys of the season: faith, family, friends, and fun. It occurs to me that we can perhaps learn much about the nature of God from Christmas. Only a truly loving, deeply good, and abundantly generous God could inspire so many people to be so happy for his birthday--and that happiness is available to everyone, whether they believe or not. It is striking--and instructive--to me that during this time more people follow more closely the example and teachings the Babe of Bethlehem would grow to give, and that they do this without necessarily trying to. It seems to flow much more naturally. 

I'm sobered by the tragedies in other parts of the world, where Christians were not able to  safely go to church to worship the birth of their Lord, or, where they did go and gave their lives for it. 

In times past (and currently, in some places and traditions) the Western world observed twelve days of Christmas. These twelve days came after, not leading up to, Christmas day, culminating with Twelfth Night--which was the traditional time that the Wise Men were believed to have come to see the Baby Jesus. In this paradigm, Christmas Day is the beginning, not the culmination of the celebration of Christ's birth. This is the day of the Feast of Epiphany, which celebrates the revelation or manifestation of Jesus to the world. 

I find this a congenial pattern for my own internal observance of Christmas. I love the music and lights, the parties and presents, Santa, Rudolph, and all the merriment that comes with a hearty celebration of Christmas. But I also value quiet introspection and devotion. Thus, I try to celebrate the birth of my Lord while also worshipping him. 

Perhaps this is trying to have my cake while eating it, too--but I enjoy the fun and excitement, the recreational aspects of the holiday up until Christmas Day. Then, I shift and in those wonderful quiet, still days between Christmas and New Year, I become introspective and worshipful. For this reason, I've never felt a conflict between the secular and sacred aspects of the holiday. 

During this time, I take a long inventory of myself from the previous year. I try to identify the areas, large and small, where my actions have fallen short of the Man from Galilee. I examine the gap between what he taught and what I have done, between his perfect example and my very flawed execution. This is a solemn time for me--introspection is not easy, and it is certainly not pleasant to look at one's shortcomings. 

But once I am focused on my failings, the sins of omission and commission, then comes the sweet gift of Divine Grace! And I savor the healing, empowering, redeeming love that took human form in that manger. In other words, I experience my own Epiphany. 

Having gone through this process, I am excited to start the New Year, focused on what I can do to be a better man, to be a better father and husband, a better teacher, a better friend, and a better disciple of Jesus Christ. 

As part of my personal celebration each year, I usually read George Eliot's Silas Marner. Short and easy to read, it's the tale of a miserly weaver who changes. Life experience, love, and God's grace combine to turn him into a new creature. To me, this is the practical meaning of Christmas, and it is the way I feel closest to my Savior. 

Joyeux Noel! Buon Natale! Feliz Navidad! Gloria in excelsis Deo! Joy to the World. Merry Christmas, my friends. I hope you are in peace and comfort and surrounded by friends and family. 

This is my favorite night of the entire year as I feel the peace of the Savior descend into my heart and can easily imagine "angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold."

If you have a minute, I think this video clip will be worth your time. It's my hero, Jimmy Stewart, in a Christmas movie made by my Church many years ago. He plays a lonely old widower, a custodian in an apartment building alone on Christmas eve. It brings tears to my eyes every year and I cry like a child.

I'm putting the clip below, but if you want to watch the movie in it's entirety (about 30 minutes) go here, here, and here.

*This is a post I've published for the last several years. I hope you enjoy it. I post it every year as part of my remembering something special in our family's experience. 

I'm 40 years old and I believe in Santa Claus. I really do. Let me tell you why--and then maybe you will also. 

I didn't always believe in him. In fact, while I was growing up, I didn't believe in him. My sweet mom really wanted the focus to be on Baby Jesus (and rightly so), consequently Santa just wasn't a big part of our celebrations.

I was never anti-Santa, I thought he seemed harmless enough, but he just didn't play much of a role in my life.  Until I was married with children.

A lot of you know the first part of the story. While on a mission for my church, I became quite ill. I managed to struggle along through the complete two years, but I came home severely weakened and exhausted. 

Still, I fell in love, got married and we started our family. Then I relapsed and the sickness came back with a vengeance. Those years are a blur for me. For basically three years I could do nothing but lay in my bed and sleep. On good days I was able to watch a little TV. I had to drop out of school and it was impossible to work. My poor wife was essentially a single mother of two little boys--in addition to taking care of a sick husband. It was terribly, incredibly, perpetually bleak during those years. There was not much to cheer us as we trudged through the soul-numbing bleakness that was always there.

Eventually, miraculously, I was healed.  But after three years, we were in a pretty deep hole--financially and emotionally.

Christmas came the next year. We were grateful that I wasn't sick any more, but there were residual effects. I was way behind in school, we had no money, and Christmas was going to be fairly sparse for our kids--and now there were three of them. That was okay. We weren't miserable or anything--but it wasn't exactly terribly festive, either. 

Then, one night we heard a noise outside. Someone left a beautiful artificial Christmas tree on our doorstep. That was followed by decorations and some other things. That really brightened our holiday. 

Then, several nights before Christmas, we heard the distinct sound of bells outside. I opened the door and went to see what it was. I opened the door and Santa Claus walked in.

I'm not joking. Just like that. He brought in several laundry baskets full of gifts, all wrapped beautifully. The new tree, by the way, is in the background. There were lots of gifts for all of us--things we wanted, things we needed, and everything was in the right sizes, too.
Of course, the gifts were nice—wonderful, in fact--but the greater gift was the way our hearts were lifted up and the love that was so clearly manifest. To this day, we aren't sure who was behind this. We racked our brains and went over every possibility. But we never found out. And they made that Christmas for us. We remember--and relive this--every year. 

And now for something a bit different. One of our family's favorite  Christmas songs is from a Curious George Christmas special. Yes, I know. However, we heard this song when we had a new four-year old who was in a cute-monkey-like phase. Christmas was magical to him--and for all of us through his eyes. He was a big Curious George fan and that's how we came across this song. So, it brings back happy memories. Enjoy!

And one more. Just because we are on the safari/jungle animal/Christmas theme. This song is for Rob McKenzie. "I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas."

I'm curled up by my tree right now, listening to Mannheim Steamroller. I just finished reading some passages from the New Testament. I feel close to a loving God, aware of his blessings and grace in my life. The sounds of children are filling our house--all of them are home with us after a semester of separation. Scented Christmas candles are burning, and those smells mix with the Christmas cookies baking to create a very pleasant, cozy background. I'm working on my third novel. I got the first draft for the cover of my second novel yesterday--which is like Christmas coming early. Perhaps most of all, I love and am loved by an amazing woman who make me happy. She just brought me a sample of the cookies she is baking for our neighbors. Life is good. The Ghost of Christmas Present has been a regular and cheerful visitor at our home this season. 

Why do I say all of this?

Partly because I'm grateful for it and I think it's important and healthy for the soul to express gratitude. 

But I say all this for another reason. This Christmas is merry and happy--but it's the continuation and fruition of many years of preparation. I realized that the blessings of this Christmas have grown from seeds that were planted many years ago--in ground that did not always seem very promising. 

The satisfaction I feel in my children is deep and enriching beyond what I can express. But it was not that many Christmases ago when we had a squalling, screaming infant who would not stop crying. He interrupted our sleep and we didn't think our lives would ever be our own again. The same college freshman who now fills us with joy just by being home with us was much the same. I remember his first Christmas very well--rocking him for hours and hours, singing to him until my throat was dry and cracked, trying desperately to lull him to sleep and get him to stop crying. I remember driving with him through the foothills of Provo, UT on Christmas Eve, hoping the car would make him stop crying--even for a little while. I remember our frayed nerves and nearly despondent hearts as we drove past house after house. The people in those houses, we thought, must have perfect lives. They were warm and cozy and didn't have a screaming baby. The despair that tired parents feel in moments like this is hard to articulate. 

My marriage is likewise a source of great joy and satisfaction. My wife is a warm and loving woman. She is loyal and supportive beyond anything I could have hoped for. She is beautiful and intelligent and she fills my life with light. Somehow, she loves me. But it wasn't always easy. I remember many Christmases that were difficult as we worked through the inevitable problems and challenges of married life--times when there was plenty of tears and heartache for both of us. Our marriage is very happy now but that took time and work, patience, tears and years of unstinting, unremitting, unyielding effort, mixed with the determination to make it work. 

God is a warm and loving reality in my life. But there were other Christmases when illness ravaged my body and emotions, when I cried out for healing. Christmases where I wept bitter tears for my weaknesses and failings and sins, for the ways I had hurt others or myself. Christmases where I could go on only because I hoped that what we were celebrating was true. Christmases where I cried out for God's mercy and grace not because I deserved it, but because I needed it so urgently. 

I have been blessed to be able to write books for fun, and to have them published. It is little-kid-on-Christmas-giddy exciting to see words you labored over become a real book, to have people you don't know read it. It's jump-up-and-down exuberance to get a note from one of those people--even if you don't make any money at it. But, I spent a lot of years--many, many years sitting in front of a Christmas tree writing term papers and 30 page essay final exams, cramming for finals, grading papers for tenured professors, and feeling the special agonies that a student feels at the end of the term. For years, my Christmases were not my own as I struggled to complete a dissertation. I also remember the rejection notices, the agonies that my book would never be published, never find a home. 

We have a comfortable living. Not much extra, and it always seems we are only a few paychecks and car repairs away from disaster. But we have a snug cottage with a roof over our heads and food on our table. Literally--our table groans with the kindness of my students and their parents as incarnated in treats and holiday food. But I remember years when things were very lean. When Christmas was entirely dependent on the kindness of anonymous strangers. When I was the only teacher who didn't receive a gift. When we had to decide between health insurance and the light bill. 

What has made the difference between the years in the past? The years of leanness and difficulty and the current happy time? I don't for a moment discount the grace of God. To do so would be to discount the effect of the sun on the flowers. Without any doubt, the birth of the Babe in Bethlehem benefitted us and has generated much of the energy behind our blessings. But there is something else that I think is important. Two things, actually.

First of all are the choices. The choice to work through problems in a difficult marriage. The choice to keep pushing through difficult years in academia. The choice to keep having children even when things were rough. To try one more publisher. And so on. Each of those bleak memories is a crossroads, where we could have taken a different path. I'm glad we didn't. 

It occurs to me that the good things in life we have come as a result of choices and effort and a lot--so very much--of patience. But--the rewards seem only to come after a very long struggle sometimes. There will be plenty of times when letting go is tempting, in fact, when it seems the only reasonable option. But if you want the reward, you have to keep going a little longer. The blessings will come. We do eventually reap what we sow. I fear that we have moved away from understanding that profound truth as a society. 

The problem is that when I needed to make those choices, I didn't have the experience I have now. I was nowhere near wise or mature enough to make the choices that would bring me happiness, or to understand how much joy they would bring. And it's hard to choose joy in the future if it means difficulty in the present--especially when you don't know how much joy.

Has anyone else noticed that the greeting "Merry Christmas" seems to be making a come-back this year?  I feel like I'm hearing it again, seeing it more. Honestly, I think that's good because I think in a mature society, there is plenty of room of Christmas among all the other holidays, and I think it's a bit silly when two people who celebrate Christmas say, "Happy Holidays" because they don't want to offend anyone. I think it's sillier still to call a Christmas tree a "Holiday tree." Hello! Do we really think that someone prone to be offended at Christmas is going to somehow not be bothered because we have a Christmas symbol but use the term "holiday?" Or, do we think we'll trick them--fool them so they don't notice? ("Hah! We sure showed that ACLU. We called it  a holiday tree. Didn't suspect a thing.")

So, I think it's nice that it's coming back--I think it's a positive sign of greater honesty and tolerance, both of which are necessary for a civil society. I also like Christmas and despise wishy-washy, mealy-mouthed, watered-down euphemisms.

However, I'm also slightly apprehensive about it because I feel like it's often said with kind of an edge--sort of a jab at politically correct folks. The way I hear it said sometimes reminds me of someone who is just itching for a fight. In other words, the greeting used to describe the birthday of the Prince of Peace has gone from being a warm greeting and wish for a festive and enjoyable holiday to being a counter-salvo in the culture wars.

I understand the impulse behind this. I really do. When I'm told I can't do something, the contrarian in me is prone to want to do it louder, bigger, and more. I also understand that people with traditional values feel that they are being shoved away from the table and that diversity and multi-culturalism are apparently exclusive of some faiths and ethnicities. I get it. And, beginning January 1, we can all start arguing about this again. 

But can we pause for a moment? For those of us who celebrate Christmas, can we just relax a bit? Do we really want the most wonderful time of the year get turned into a battlefield? Where's the fun in that? If we succeed in saying "Merry Christmas" but mean, "Hah, take that!" are we really honoring Christmas? Is this what Jesus had in mind? Whether or not we "started" this, do we want to escalate it? I'm not talking about rights and lawsuits and so on here. I'm talking about our attitudes and demeanors. Think about the Whos, for whom Christmas came "all the same" after the Grinch had tried to ruin it for them. 

For those that don't celebrate, is it really that much of a problem if some of us do? If you are told Merry Christmas--have you been truly and seriously harmed? When you think of all the bad things that happen in this world, does the cheery, but misinformed wish of a passer-by really hurt you? I have some Jewish friends. I emailed them to wish them a Happy Hanukkah. They wished me Merry Christmas. Neither of us seems to have been hurt by that exchange. 

When I lived in NYC, I frequently got out of school for holidays I didn't celebrate and I never felt it was a problem. If you don't believe in Christmas, but lots of other people do, can you not let them have their fun? I think the Superbowl is kind of silly and a big waste. But the fact that some people watch it doesn't harm me. The fact that some people believe in religious beings or ideas that I don't is not really a problem either. Because I don't believe in them. 

Every year for a month or so, we have historically stopped bickering and been a little nicer, a little kinder. People give money to charities and they think about the poor and unfortunate. Grudges are set aside and families get together. 

Can we all just ratchet things down a bit? Let everyone celebrate whatever and however they choose? 

If I were going to be stranded on a desert island and could take one Christmas album with me, and one Christmas album only, it would be Mannheim Steamroller Christmas. Period. I wouldn't have to even think about it. I  know that that there have been a lot of other albums released over the years, but for me, this is the quintessential Christmas album, the fundamental, irreducible musical component of Christmas. 

And if I could only listen to one song from that one album, well, it would be this one. For sure. Enjoy!

Instead of my regular Christmas song this morning, I saw this over the weekend and thought I'd post it instead. This guy definitely has the Christmas spirit going on. Wish I would have been there to see this. 

Well, Christmas is right around the corner! What a wonderful time of year. A big part of this season, of course, is the giving of gifts. And, with that comes wondering and worrying about what to give  to various people in your life. Your husband, wife, boss, neighbors, and your child's teacher.

I can't help you with the others, but I can give you some tips on what to give your child's teacher. I have some expertise in this since I am a teacher, so I have my own experience as well as hearing the reactions of all my colleagues over the years. So, based on that, let me give you some thoughts.

You are certainly not obligated to give a gift. If you want to--I think that's great. If you don't want to, can't, whatever, that's fine, too. 

Like many others of my generation, I associate Christmas with the Rankin/Bass stop motion animation specials--Santa Claus is Comin' to Town, The Little Drummer Boy (that always upset me) and of course, Rudolph! (Trivia fact: the Rankin/Bass team were also involved in the truly awesome 80s cartoon series: Thundercats).

Rudolph was first broadcast in 1964. Narrated by Burl Ives (noted folksinger a serious actor--he played Big Daddy on Broadway and in the film version of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.), it was based on the already written story of Rudolph (read the brief background here). The songs, "Silver and Gold" and "Holly Jolly Christmas" were written for this show and quickly became Christmas standards. They were written by Johnny Marks, about whom I've already written here.

Source: Wikipedia