At that point in my life, I had not learned the necessity of being skeptical, so I didn't call the police to report the incident. (Note to any reporters who are reading this: No, the mission president didn't sell or steal all the gifts. After our Christmas Eve experience, we discovered the presents were at our apartment waiting for us).
Ever since then I've felt something was missing at Christmas.
I can't put my finger on exactly what's wrong, but it feels a lot like the time I was invited to go hunting with my "friends" but was not given a gun or any cool orange hunter clothes.
I wonder why that Christmas so long ago proved so memorable and why it was so difficult to find someone who had nothing to give back to us. It's made me want to recommit to discovering that spirit again.
Finding the true meaning of Christmas in today's sophisticated age shouldn't be that hard to do. I have a stack of Christmas CDs and Star Wars Christmas ornaments to work with.
In fact, I'm guessing that, by now, someone must have already developed a Christmas Spirit app for that.
In the meantime, if your power suddenly goes out and you go to your kitchen only to find me there in a bright orange vest singing Christmas carols, don't be afraid. No need to call the police. It's just me trying to recreate a magical Christmas.
Just give me some hot chocolate and I'll stop singing. I'm told when I stop singing it is always a blessed event — it will be your own Christmas miracle.
Steve Eaton lives in Logan, Utah, and is troubled by many things year round. He can be reached at Stevetrib@yahoo.com.
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