“The important thing is that we focus on the diversity this campus is known for.”

“Right.” He paused. “Everything gets equal attention.”

“A..a..a”

“Well of course I don’t mean Christmas. It’s had too much preference for far too long in this country. Besides, it’s passe.

“Right. Twinkly lights are fine as long as they don’t mean anything. And Christmas carols . . .”

“Ach! Don’t even mention them. I can’t stand them.”

“I hated to see the Santa display go, but it was for the best.”

“Haha! I’d forgotten about that one!”

“What in the world? Did you see that?”

“I think it’s the Fine Arts Building. I’d think they’ll be on it before too long. Painting in the  dark would be a challenge, eh?”

“Of course, red and green were fine for awhile, but – I don’t know – do you think it’s associated too closely with Christmas?”

“Let’s just go with white and gold. No reason to ruffle any feathers.”

The two men stopped and peered down the street for a moment.

“The English department will howl, for sure.”

“Oop! And Languages. Ah! And a few of the street lights! I wonder if it’s something with the electrical system?”

“Ooo, watch out there. Are you okay?”

“Just a minor stumble. It’s a bit hard to see without those lights.”

“Did you see the creche in front of the gas station down on 7th?”

“I can let the student group know. They love a good protest.”

A loud buzz echoed through the evening air.

“Look! The History department! They’ve probably all fallen asleep anyway.”

The two men chuckled.

“Science and technology will feel that.”

“I wonder how it will affect research?”

“But to the main point. This time of year shouldn’t be any different than any other time. I think we’ve done a fine job of cleaning up the campus. I don’t see evidence of the C word anywhere, do you?”

“How much better our campus is without Christmas!”

The other man nodded. “Nothing to take offense at here.”

And the campus went dark.

Image: Pexels.com; John 1:5; I Peter 2:8; https://www.dangerous.com/38838/christmas-not-appropriate-according-university-minnesota-memo/

Wind whipped the branches and slammed snow pellets against the brick until red became white. City dwellers had heeded the forecasters’ warnings and had stocked up on necessities including rock salt, sand, and kitty litter. Shovels were sold out. Streets had emptied. Here and there a window blinked a hint of brave light otherwise muted by the blizzard.

She’d heard the warnings just as everyone else had, but how often were forecasters right, really? When she’d started out, it had been simply cold and windy. But the forecasters had been right, and she had gotten it very wrong.

She wanted to make it home for Christmas – surprise everyone for once in her life. Oh, they’d planned on her coming, but with this weather, had urged her to stay put. They’d get together another time. Still, it had been too long.

Last Christmas she’d been invited to Aspen and you’d have to be crazy to turn down an invitation like that. The Christmas before that she’d worked because, well because she needed the money, and at the time money seemed more important than going home. It wasn’t the same. Working made the day seem like just another day. She’d gone back to a quiet apartment and ate leftover quiche that had lost some of its texture and toast that tasted like sawdust. Aspen had been exciting and beautiful, but . . .

As December 25th approached, she’d begun to think of the pine scent of the Christmas tree she knew stood in front of the window and the cookies her mom always made, the ginger ones with sugared orange rinds on top. Every time she heard a Christmas song on the radio or in a store, she thought of the little church down the block from their house that held Christmas Eve services no matter the weather.

Now her Christmas surprise had made an awful turn. God was in heaven, and Jesus wasn’t just a baby in a pretty story. She knew that. But she never prayed. Wasn’t sure she knew what to say even if she tried. How, after all, did one ask for Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer?

She pulled over as she approached the edge of town. Ten more miles on a blowing highway and she’d be home. Ten more miles might as well be ten hundred. She couldn’t even see where the road ended and the ditch began.

Squinting into the whiteout, suddenly she caught sight of a light up ahead! Not white light, but red and red enough to break through the blinding flakes. She pulled out and crept onto the highway, following it. A lone trucker needing to make it a few more miles would’ve laughed to think he was an answer to prayer. No matter. The driver of the car behind him was humming Rudolph.

Image: 800px-Blizzard_Mt_Keen-wikipedia.jpg; pexels.com; Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer: composer, Robert L. May; story idea based on a trip back to the cities from St. Cloud in blinding fog after a night class I took many years ago