The Christmas Dragon: Part 8

Iris the Ice Queen

The darkness of the cave swallowed us. The light from outside faded. After a few minutes, I was tossed to the ground. An eerie pale glow surrounded me.  I looked for Max, but he wasn’t with me.

“So,” a cold voice hissed like air escaping a balloon, “this is who they choose to protect their precious Christmas? A mere boy?”

I spun around trying to find where it came from,  but could see nothing. Swirling wisps of snow rose from the ground, twisted like a tornado, then took shape before me.

I backed away, pressing against the chilled rocky wall of the cave. Gliding along the ground, the creature came closer, until it was right before me.

Ice queenI faced an angry looking, ice-covered, woman. She stroked the head of a wolf standing by her side, once Frank the fake Elf. He curled his lips at me, baring his teeth.

“Who…who…are you?” I said, my voice quivering. I fought against my fear.

“I am Iris, the Ice Queen.”

Her words came on gusts of frigid air, stinging my ears. “What do you want with me? Where’s Max?”

“You, my dear boy, and your sad little dragon are my guests. You’ll stay until the world knows Christmas is no more.”

“I want to see Max,” I took a step towards her. I could tell she didn’t expect this.

“Very well,” she began to fade, “but it will do you no good.” In a flash, she was gone. The wolf gave me one more flash of his teeth then ran off. Something odd about this. Why would she do what I asked?

After a few moments, the wall behind me gave way, light filtered through. I took a step closer, trying to see in. Another step. Then another. I squeezed through the narrow opening and stuck my head out. Max licked my face. He covered me with Dragon slime, but I didn’t care.

Max was okay. That was good. As to me, I wasn’t so sure.

I squeezed through and stopped dead in my tracks. dragon-dancing-animationMax danced in the middle of the giant cave, leaning over to lick my face when he got close, then bounced some more. All around him, looking pale and tired, were Santa’s reindeer team and the missing Elves.

While I tried to take this all in, the wall behind me slammed shut. We were sealed in a cave, no way out, deep in a mountain, guarded by a powerful magician, a snarling shape-shifting wolf, and surrounded by an army of dead trees.

I was alone and not sure what to do.

Then, Max slid his head between my legs and lifted me onto his back. He moved to the center of the room. The Elves and reindeer all gathered around us, looking at me.

“Tell’em what you’re gonna do, Joe,” Max said, smiling and bouncing on his feet. “Tell’em how we’re gonna save Christmas.”

I looked around at all the faces staring at me, a mixture of hope and fear shown in their eyes.

“I will,” I said, trying to sound confident, then whispered, “as soon as I think of it.”

TO BE CONTINUED

The Tradition of St. Nick: Thoughts on a Christmas Eve

(Through the wonders of technology, on this first day of December 2017, I repost this blog from last year, all while absorbing the sun on an Aruban Beach.  Thoughts of Christmas to warm your hearts, if not your other parts)

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On September 21, 1897, the editor of New York’s Sun captured the spirit of Christmas with these words,

“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus…”

Seven words with an unanticipated longevity to the truth they proclaimed. The answer to a question from an 8-year-old girl.

This 8-year-old girl, facing life’s reality, sort reassurance from the authority of a newspaper. Imagine the quandary facing that editor, tell the truth or chip away at innocence?

He demonstrated great wisdom. He told the truth. A truth that holds to this day.

“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus…”

This is a spirit different than religious traditions. It is a non-denominational phenomenon crossing cultural boundaries and containing a powerful message.

It is easy to lose hope in this world. One begins to wonder if evolution has slowed when it comes to the humanness of humankind.

Or given up on us entirely.

Despite this I say, now more than ever, yes there is a Santa Claus. Even among those who hold no such traditions. The spirit lives in the commonality of our being human.

All we need is a willingness to give for the sake of giving. To seek our happiness by making others happy.

We can share the experience of watching the wonder in the eyes of a small child. See the spark of the spirit come alive and grow within them. Embrace the comfort of old friendships, the warmth of family, or just the companionship of a good dog (but never a cat.)

We all yearn to make others happy and feel the satisfaction of bringing joy to those we love. Or those we are yet to meet.

We can find solace in those same words; Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

It is within us all. All we need do is open our minds.

So, no matter where your tradition comes from. Be it a generous caring man of a different era, proclaimed a Saint, and turned into the legend of Santa Claus. Or a celebration of another tradition with equal import to your memories. Whatever you celebrate, in this Christmas season and from here on, I wish for you;

To have no regrets except for things you didn’t do.

To never to be afraid of failing at anything, except failing to try.

To remember the past, but waste no time on it.

To look forward to the future, but understand you cannot control it.

To hold onto hope, no matter what.

To embrace your moments in this life, once past they can never be reclaimed.

To find what fills your heart with smiles and have it grow, like the Grinch’s, three sizes this day.

To find that childlike spirit long buried by the cares of the real world.

To let the shackles of growing up fall away.

To dance like Snoopy to the music of Schroeder.

To understand, like Linus, it is the spirit that matters.

To know there is always tomorrow for dreams to come true. Even on your last day on this earth, the dreams of those we leave behind live on.

To work for a future of a world filled with laughter.

To understand it is through our differences we share the commonality of being human.

To be a child again, if but for one moment. To hear the far-off sounds of jingling bells. To see a faint red light of a magical reindeer approaching in the cold winter sky. To feel the excitement at the footsteps of a jolly old man on the roof of your memories.

The best part of the Spirit of Christmas is it is within our power to keep it well all the rest of our days.

886707_10151795370048031_640391184_oHappy Christmas to all and to all a lifetime of good nights.

 

Killing Christmas

We are, all of us, killing Christmas.

We are engaged in the destruction of fellowship, good will, and a wish for happiness for all by abandoning rationality, tolerance, and understanding.

This once uplifting time of the year fallen victim to our insistence on highlighting differences, rather than embracing them.

It is us versus them.

We are on the side of good; they are on the side of evil.

If you are not with us, you are against us.

Does it really matter if one says Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays?

Of course not.

Yet some would have us believe respecting differences is in some way an abandonement of our own beliefs.

Or that making an effort to understand differences is a sign of weakness or surrender.

Nothing could be further from the truth or less in keeping with the spirit of Christmas.

The term Christmas may have originated in a particular religious philosophy, but the spirit it represents crosses all faiths and philosophies.

This world is at a crisis stage. Not because the threat facing us is any worse than others but because we face a choice of how we respond.

We can either move ahead as a race of intelligent, rational, and understanding beings or fall back into the violence of our past.

Differences make us better. Seeking to eliminate those differences diminishes us.

The Spirit of Christmas is universal. We do it a great disservice by ignoring that fact.

We are killing the true spirit of Christmas. We need to stop before it is too late for all of us.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Fröhliche Weihnachten, Giáng sinh vui vẻ, or Live Long and Prosper, does not really matter how you say it as long as you live it.