The man known by many names, but most common as Santa Claus has found himself merged into one of the most powerful and beautiful holiday celebrations known to man. There has been much speculation as to whom he really was or how he came about, but in fact nobody really knows... until now.
This is the story of a young Norseman named Kris Kringle. His journey across the Ice, sea and foreign lands as he follows a star that shows bright in the sky. A man of faith and virtue, Kris is guided by God, angels, elves and that beautiful star to meet a child who is to be born in a stable.
Being called by God to witness this miraculous event is not the only tale to be told in young Kris's story. He must meet strange people, learn of different cultures, stand face to face with his past and find mystical creatures really do exist. He must discover what he believes and does not believe. In the end all he can hope is you hear his story, feel the love poured into the pages before you and share that love.
When Christmas day comes and you see the presents under the tree, perhaps your first thought will be of one September night, long ago, when a young toy maker witnessed the birth of the son of God.
Three year old Johnny looked about the living room, his eyes wide with wonder. He gazed at the beautiful Christmas tree that stood upon a platform by the large picture window. A mixture of old and new ornaments hung gracefully along its full lush branches. Red, blue, yellow and white lights entangled through the masses of pine needles, set against the pitch darkness of the Christmas Eve sky. A fire in the stone fireplace kept the old house warm, giving it a coziness that could only be found at Grandma's house. Oh sure, Grandpa lived there too, but somehow this house at Christmas belonged to grandma and everybody knew it. Each year she would spin her magic and the house transformed into a living wonderland. The three Kings made their way across the room, day by day, carefully placed as they marched their way closer to the handmade wooden stable. Pine needles, pine cones, holly and various assortments of spices sprayed in nooks, shelves and window sills. Angels sat atop the mantle where the stockings would soon hang below them. Furniture was recovered in bright reds and winter greens. Yes, this place was Christmas. Tomorrow morning Cinnamon rolls and gooey sticky buns would be sending their sweet scent to arouse the house and call"CHRISTMAS IS HERE". The piles of brightly colored goodies under the tree would multiply. With sticky hands, happy faces and many laughs, they would be torn open to find their treasures.
Usually what would be spinning in Johnny's mind would be the gifts and curiosity of what was in them. Tonight however, he found himself thinking of other things, times, places and people. His aunt was the only other person in the room. She was lying back upon the chase reading a book. He giggled a little as he looked at her, her long dark hair tangled up in a make shift bun, over sized button down shirt tucked over her knees. "Aunt Lee?" Johnny looked at her puzzling over what he would say next.
"Yeah honey?" Laying her book to her lap she turned her head to look at him.
Perhaps it was the look upon his face of confusion and almost afraid to speak his next words.
"Why don't you come over here and sit on my lap and we can talk a little." She placed the book under the tree to her side and patted her lap for him. Johnny smiled, walked over and slipped right into it. Her tender kiss always seems the same. She pulls him in close to her, her lips slip softly to his temple as her hand lies to his head, pulling him gently into it. He can hear as she slowly inhales, catching his scent then exhaling slowly. He often wondered if he smelled as good to her as the cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. She savored him as if to memorize it and keep it forever.
"So, what is it booger? What's on your mind?" She kissed him again and wrapped her hands around his waist, turning to look him in the eye. She had always called him by one of two names. It was either Booger or T and he never was sure if he liked either one of them. Somehow, though, it was alright if she called him Booger, she always followed it with a kiss, hug or some loving gesture. Usually she called him T when she needed him to come to her or do something. T was his middle initial, as he was named after his father, so she never called him by his given name to save some confusion.
Johnny looked up at the three wise men. "Who are they?" He asked pointing up to the shelf where they made their long march.
"Well, those are the three wise men." She looked at his confusion and continued "You know the story of when baby Jesus was born right?" Johnny nodded, stared and listened to her intently. "There were once three men. They were the wisest of men in all the land. These three ..." She stood up and holding Johnny tight in her arms walked over to the little figures. "They walked a very long way to find a baby they had heard would be born. They followed a bright star in the sky until one night they arrived at a stable. Inside they found a Man ..." Johnny yelled "JOSEPH!" His aunt smiled at him and continued "yes, and a woman" she paused and let Johnny answer "Mary" giggling a bit she looked at him and said "who else?" Johnny answered with pride "the baby Jesus!" Her kiss, again, was light as it found his forehead. "These men knew who Jesus was and was going to be. He had been promised to come and is why they traveled so very far to find him. They brought him gifts of Gold, frankincense and Myrrh." She could see him becoming confused again. "Frankincense and Myrrh are used in perfumes and incense, and at that time were priceless. They were the kind of gifts you would give a King."
"Oh!" Johnny said looking to each of the wise men.
Lee held him tight as she walked back over to the chase and sat back down, plopping him into her lap. She tucked him in tight to her as she rested against the back and swung her legs onto its long seat. She giggled again as she thought how she loved this chair; it had seemed to be made just for her. It was just the right length and always seemed comfortable for any project she was up to. It was made for lounging and was perfect for resting back while holding little boys on your lap.
"Aunt Lee?" Johnny finally caught his thoughts and bravery to ask the most important question.
Her head tilted as she studied his face. How important this question must be that he has taken so long and struggled so hard to find a way to ask it. "Yes?"
Johnny's mouth was suddenly dry and a bit of panic has set in as his heart raced. Maybe he should not ask. What if it gets him in trouble? What if she doesn't know? For a moment he thought he saw a little bit of panic in his aunt's face. She seems to be looking at him more serious now and concerned.
Lees mind was whirling, oh she hopes she has an answer or knows how to respond when he finally lets out the words. She is trapped with no help if she does not have anything to offer. What in the world could it be that has this child so concerned that he is finding so much trouble in the asking or telling of it? She looks around the room, maybe she can find a diversion until somebody more wise and capable to answer this poor boys questions enters the room. Where is her dad?
Finally Johnny makes a hard swallow and manages the words he so needed to ask "How does Santa know Jesus?"
Lee is stunned; her mind says "oh crap." She could tell him the old stand by of "well Jesus knows everybody" but she knows that is not what he wants to know and would be a total cop out. She takes a deep breath and looks at him with a smile.
"Let's see now" her fingers stroke at her chin as she thinks but puts on the expression one does when they are recalling a memory.
"Well, I guess the best place to start would be about the time Jesus was going to be born"
Kris Kringle
There once was a man named Kris Kringle. He, like his father before him and his father before him, was a toy maker. Kris spent most of his time making toys. He lived at the North Pole, far away from other people. It was nice to have the peace and quiet to get so much work done, but none the less Kris was very lonely. He did look forward every year to his annual toy delivery to the shops in town but it was a long way to travel with such a heavy load.
Back in those days Kris was a young man, golden unkempt hair, sprouting chin whiskers but not enough to fully form a beard, quite yet. He was trim, tall, and had the most wonderful sea blue eyes you ever saw.
He would make his travels in a giant sleigh that his grandfather had built. It was so beautiful, hand carved of dark wood trimmed with silver, bright red velvet covered seats, and reigns that had been died green. Kris' Father had traded toys once for several reindeer and took them back with him to the North Pole. He had built a special barn to keep them warm and over the generations they had children and the herd of reindeer grew, as well as the size of the barn. Kris would use the reindeer to pull his sleigh when he made his yearly trip to town. People would gather from all over just to greet Kris, pet his reindeer and buy his toys.
One night Kris awoke in a startle. There was something he knew he had to do. He just was not really sure what it was. He sat in bed for quite some time. Rubbing his head he kept thinking "Come on Kris what is it? Was it a dream? What do you need to do?" Finally he tossed away his covers and slipped out of bed. The cold of the wood floor to his cabin struck hard to his feet, chilling his toes it took his mind away from his thoughts. He slipped his feet into his slippers tucked neatly to the edge of his bed and made his way out of the room.
The coals from the fire were still glowing in the fireplace. This was a welcome sight to Kris as he shuffled sleepily over to the hearth. Gripping an iron poker he stirred the coals making them glow to a bright orange. He laid a few pieces of wood to them and smiled as the warmth of the flame embraced his now shivering body. In an instance he felt the heat flush his cheeks and his toes thank him for the care.
He was starting to wake now. His mind clearing but still no idea what it was that took him from his sleep so quickly. With a deep sigh he surrendered his thoughts and made his way to the front door of his home. Opening the door he felt the ice chill all the warmth from his body. Shivering he stepped out, tugging his nightshirt close to him he reached down into the snow to pull up a metal jug. Quickly he lunged back into the cabin grasping his shirt in one hand and an icy fist wrapped about the jug in the other. Slamming the door closed he let out a hard shiver, shaking himself from his head to his toes.
He walked over to the fire, this time the flames stung at his flesh. Little bites and tingles as he slowly became warm once again. He placed the jug upon the hearth, allowing it to warm itself close to the flames.
The chair sat close to the fire. It was a big bulky thing. The once brilliant red was now faded and worn from use. The once tight billows of stuffing had flattened in places and found new places to bulge. Kris plopped into it. His lean body seemed to not even be noticed if a person were to enter. The mass of the chair was ample for a couple more people the same size as Kris. He wiggled and found his perfect comfort spot. Laying his head back he calmly rested and allowed his thoughts to search once again.
The room seemed to be a mix of living space and office. The cabin was small and even though it had but five actual pieces of furniture, it appeared to be completely filled. Along one wall was a long wooden table, small tools hung behind it, hammer and chisel resting upon its top next to a bowl filled with nails. Wood chips and dust seemed to scatter over its top onto the floor. Sitting alone on the far edge of the table, tucked neatly against the wall was a doll. Its head, hands and feet were delicately carved out of a light wood. The eyes had been carefully painted, and hair made of a loose spun orange yarn. Its body was made of cloth, stuffed tight with sawdust. A wooden stool slipped under the table seemed quite disproportionate to the size of the table. Pieces of cloth piled in one corner, spools of thread hung from a board above the pile. A pair of scissors hung next to the thread and various needles and pins pressed into the wood appearing to be ready and willing to fall at any given moment. A basket of yarn found its own little nest, just barely visible next to the pile of cloth. The colors spilled brightly against the wood logs making the wall behind it. The chair Kris now sat upon was the only other piece of furniture in the space.
The small kitchen tucked to the end of the living room was no bigger then a closet. A small wooden table tightly fit into it, a knife, fork, spoon, wooden bowl and wooden plate laid upon it.
The only other room in the cabin was Kris' bedroom. The room only hosted a bed and a few pieces of clothing that were tucked neatly into a small wood chest. His boots sat beside the chest waiting to be worn daily to feed the herd and the long trips into town.
As Kris leaned back in his chair his mind went to concern of his friends out in the barn. All the years being alone with only his herd to keep him company, he came to care for them as he would a dear friend. He spent many hours every day checking on them, talking to them, petting them, feeding them and overall enjoying his time with them. They were important to him, as companions and as his link to other people. Without them his trips to town would be dangerous and very long in travel. It would be wonderful to have human companionship, but it was nice to know he would wake up everyday and have the herd to care for.
A soft whisper sang into his ear "Kris ... Kris you must come" Kris shot straight up in his chair not knowing if the sound was in his head or if somebody was actually whispering to him. Rising out of his chair, his heart racing, he scoped out the cabin slowly with his eyes. Taking deep, slow breaths he started to calm himself. Where must he come he wondered. To what purpose was this call to go somewhere?
He looked to the jug on the hearth; slowly he bent down and lifted it. Removing the metal lid from it he smiled. A waft of the warm milk sent a savoring scent to his nose. "Ah!" He drew the rim to his lips and slowly poured the warm cream into his mouth. "Kris ... Kris we need you" He dropped the jug. Crashing to the floor it spilled onto the wood. Kris found he could not move. This voice, still a soft whisper, seemed not at all to be in his head, nor from a person in the room. He turned slowly, catching some bravery within him that allowed him to do so. "Who is there?" He managed in a cracking low tone. "Open the door Kris, you shall see. You must come." Kris' body seemed to not have muscle. He did not know how it was he could feel so weak yet still be standing. For that moment he was sure he could not move at all. There he stood, still and stiff for several minutes that seemed to Kris like hours. His heart pounded hard to his chest, he could hear each beat thump. His eyes wondered, slowly checking every shadow, every spot of the cabin, finally landing at the door. Should he open it? What will be on the other side? His foot rises and falls, the other slowly follows. He is terrified as he makes his way to the door. He pauses, listening to the silence, straining to hear what is on the other side ... silence. His hand, shaking, takes a slow, firm grasp of the knob. Still he debates if he should open it. Finally he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes tight and thrusts open the door. He stands, perfectly still. His body had been prepared to feel the hard rush of bitter cold, ready for a person to take hold of him and thrust him into the icy dark. Yet he stood, still warm, no hands laid upon him, on his feet at the threshold of his cabin.
His eyes open slowly, trying to peek before they become fully open. Nothing, nobody is there. He looks to the snowy ground, sprinkles of twinkles shine upon the bluish white surface. It seems bright for such a dark night. He looks around finding the usual still of his peaceful home. Shaking his head he mutters "Dear God, have I gone mad?" as his eyes wander upward asking the question. His gaze stops, pointed upon a star. "Follow me Kris, you must come, find me and you will see" a flicker of the star Kris had focused on, then it seemed to slightly dim but still remained brighter then the others. "Come Kris".
(Continues...)
Excerpted from To Jesus Love Santa by LL Kitts Copyright © 2009 by LL Kitts. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Sinamon
Posted November 2, 2009
Who hasn't thought about the tie between Santa and the little baby born in a manger when Christmas rolls around? How are they related, if at all? They seem like two people/stories that have nothing to do with each other. How do we reconcile the likes of Santa and Jesus especially to children without confusing them? In this lovely (and lovingly) illustrated story, we see how kris kringle comes to be called into duty while he meets a cast of wonderfully quirky and lively characters along the way of his intrepid journey. In the end, the story is about love, friendship, and family. Who wouldn't want to pass this along to the next generation as well as share it with our own. Read this book and feel the author's love of life and the people in it as it envelopes you and encourages you to do the same.
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Overview
The man known by many names, but most common as Santa Claus has found himself merged into one of the most powerful and beautiful holiday celebrations known to man. There ...