Bells Are There
If You Listen

A Christmas card received for a Sunshine friend last year depicted Santa and his reindeer flying through the air, under which she had written the caption, "Do you remember?" the card did in fact bring vividly to mind a wonderful memory. I was about nine years old, my sister Beulah seven and my brother Ronnie five.

We lived in a tiny bungalow in the town of Pittsfield, and like most families, for several weeks had been excitedly preparing for Christmas. I expect that for our mother, RoseAnna Lanpher, who made most of our gifts, the preparation time had been much longer. Much of the excitement was created by our involvement in our school, which put on an annual pageant, well attended by our tiny town.

It was a crisp, cold Christmas eve, and the three of us were headed for bed. As we stood in our parents bedroom looking out the window, at the moonlit night, I remember my brother saying, "Do you believe in Santa?" I don’t!"

Our parents had incorporated the spirit of Santa into the Christian scene, and thus I was really struck by the doubt in his voice. And found myself responding, as was normal in my leadership role as the eldest, to rebuild his faith, which apparently had been shredded by his peers.

And thus, as was also natural, I began to tell a story about Santa’s monstrous job to visit all children who believed in him, building it up as I went, until the excitement became so real in my mind, that suddenly, I did hear the bells and exclaimed in astonishment, "Can’t you hear his sleigh bells!" Because at that point, I did actually hear them, and to this day, in my imagination I can hear them!

We should never cease to hear Santa’s bells, heralding the joy of the birth of our Lord at Christmas.

Bea L. McCullough

Bethel

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