Something From Nothing
I remember the first Christmas after my parents divorced. Not only was it dark times emotionally for my brother, sister and me, it was pretty bleak underneath the tree too. I was nine or ten at the time, old enough to not believe my mother entirely that there was no Santa Claus. Of course, I was still troubled whether Darth Vader was really Luke’s dad or not…my judgment was off. What I did know was no presents under the tree was a symbol of self-worth: the people I saw everyday couldn’t afford to give me anything and the one person who could make a miracle happen was a fairytale. It was a tough year.
We did get something that Christmas we hadn’t had before: company. When my parents were together, we were an exclusive group. I can’t recall one Fourth of July, birthday party, Thanksgiving, that was filled with people—with family—at the table. But once my parents separated, things changed. My mother had started going to a new church and she’d opened our home to a group of four extraordinary women that have become pivotal in my life: a law school student, now a federal court judge; a budding minister, now a pastoral counselor and therapist; and a couple of college students, one a journalist-turned-teacher, the other a business professional. Now they are my Other Mothers—women who helped make me, mold me into the man I am today. Then, they were a ragtag group of 20-somethings trying to entertain 3 petulant children. They crashed our couches, took over our stereo system, ate our food. And laughed! Oh, how they laughed!
We had a choice, my siblings and I, we could continue the ridiculous fight over the Atari 2600 with its state-of-the-art graphics and 2 controllers or we could see what all the commotion was about. Here were 5 women, my mother included, dancing to Earth, Wind and Fire and Michael Jackson, telling stories far too risqué for my 10-year-old ears, feeling the effects of egg nog and cheap beer. They taught us dance moves, told jokes, watched videos on MTV (back when MTV actually played videos), helped us do a live-action Thriller zombie dance. They made Christmas fun!
That was the year I learned Christmas had nothing to do with what was under the tree. To this day, it remains the best Christmas I can remember. And we did get something: the minister brought us a dozen powdered donuts…then ate them all before we woke up. We still laugh about that one.
Christopher C. Starr is the founder of Sanford House Press, a writers’ community/indie publishing house. His debut novel, The Road to Hell, is the launch of the Heaven Falls series. Chris lives in the Seattle area with his wife, Amanda, two kids, and his husky, Rocky the Wonder Dog. You can check him out at www.christophercstarr.net, on Facebook at facebook.com/christophercstarr or follow him on Twitter - @SuperStarr73
Here's the scoop on The Road to Hell, a fascinating take on Satan's fall, told from his point of view:
My name is Lucifer and I was first… …and, yes, I am that Lucifer. Fall from Heaven, Prince of Darkness, ruler of Hell, Satan, the Devil, the Adversary, and a thousand other names. Your book leaves out some key elements. I think it’s time to tell my side of the story. From the very beginning. I should know: I was the beginning. Before me was the Father and before the Father there was nothing. Forget what you think you know. You’ve never heard this story before—not from me. Others have tried. None of them got it right. No one seems to understand my motivations. See, I don’t want you. I’ve never wanted you. I want Him. Everyone else is just in the way…
Find out more at: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12461178-the-road-to-hell