The REAL Saint Nick

Will the REAL Saint Nick 
please stand up?

(Conversations with Jeffrey—The Series. By Leona Choy)

Archived December 2012. Encored by request

“Jeffrey, you believe in Saint Nick, right?”

“Come on Grandma, you know I'm 13 now!”

“I mean the real one, the flesh and blood man whose Feast day is December 6 and celebrated by Catholic Christians all over the world.”

“Don't you mean December 25^th and Santa Claus?”

“Nope. At Christmas we celebrate the birthday of Jesus, although we don't know the exact date or year of our Savior's birth. I mean Saint Nicholas, a bishop of the Church, a real historical figure who lived at the turn of the fourth century.”

“Where did he live? I'm guessing it wasn't at the North Pole.”

“In Asia Minor in what is now Turkey, but it was a Greek province at the time. It isn't far from the Holy Land, Israel, just across the Mediterranean sea.”

“So there really was a Saint Nick?”

“Absolutely. Saint Nicholas was a generous, model bishop who put Jesus Christ at the center of his life, his ministry, and his entire life.”

“But where does the name 'Santa Claus' come from?”

“'Santa' means 'saint' and 'Claus' came from shortening the bishop's name 'Nicholas.' Some say that early Dutch settlers in New York brought their tradition of 'Sinter Klass' to America and that started the tradition here.”

“Tell me again what a 'saint' is?”

“The word 'saint' means 'holy.' In Latin it is 'sanctus.' Saints are just ordinary people who want to live like Jesus taught us to live, but they are special because they did a good job at it. The apostle Paul calls all Christians 'saints' in his writings. We should all want to be saints.”

“They're sort of like Christian heroes, right? Role models?”

“That's the idea. We consider them examples of how we too should live pleasing to God. Because they are still alive in Heaven, no matter how long ago they lived on earth, we can ask them to pray for us.”

“What connection does this real Saint Nick have to the Santa Claus story of today.”

“The Santa Claus story sort of grew in people's imaginations through the centuries. The real man named Nicholas was the Bishop of Myra, a southern seaport in Turkey. Even the way the modern Santa Claus is dressed reminds us of the real Saint Nicholas. Bishops of the Church wear red and Nicholas was a bishop. Today's Santa and his 'helpers' are always dressed in red. Starting in 1931 (when I was only six years old!) the Coca-Cola company started using a caricature of the real Saint Nick for their advertising.”

“What's a 'caricature'?”

“It's like a cartoon, an artist's way of exaggerating certain features of a real person.” 

“Do we know anything about Nicholas as he was growing up?”

“Nick was the only child of very rich parents who died from an illness when he was a young boy. He grew up in a monastery and became a priest when he was 17. He inherited his parents' wealth and used all of it to help poor families, widows, and especially children and orphans. He became famous for his generosity and kindness and for giving of gifts.”

“How long after Jesus' resurrection did Nicholas live?”

“About 280 years. The Christian Church was just getting started, but faith in Jesus was spreading fast all over the known world of that day. During Nicholas' life the leader of the country, Emperor Diocletian tried to destroy the Church with his political power. One of his advisers was the son of a witch and influenced the emperor to worship pagan idols, burn writings about Jesus, and force priests to renounce the Christian faith or face death. He forbade Christians to meet together or hold any government office. As a bishop and their leader, Nicholas was the main target for his persecution.” 

“Did this stop Bishop Saint Nick and all those new Christians?”

“The emperor arrested him and had him tortured for disobeying the emperor's new laws. Actually, the real Saint Nick must have been very skinny, not like today's fat Santa. He spent more than a decade in prison being starved and he also fasted often when he was free. Emperor Diocletian was eventually defeated and his kingdom collapsed. Constantine, who became the next emperor, was favorable to the Christians, so Saint Nick finally got out of jail.”

“Was everything cool for the Christians then?”

“Trouble continued. Some who called themselves Christians but didn't believe correctly what Jesus and His apostles taught caused confusion. Nicholas was known for his courage to stand firm for the true Christian faith. He lived it and taught his people well. He was against the heresies of those times.”

“What's a heresy?”

“It's a teaching that is contrary to what Jesus and his followers clearly taught. The main heresy in Nicholas' day was led by a man named Arius from Egypt. He tried to convince people that Jesus was not really the Son of God, maybe just a prophet or only a top angel—'sort of a lord' but not equal to God.”

“How did that all get settled?”

“In those early centuries after Jesus' resurrection when all the new Christians were forming their common beliefs, they settled important matters of the Christian Church by calling a Council of all the bishops. The first one ever held was called by Emperor Constantine during the time of Bishop Nicholas. It was held in Nicea in 325. More than 300 bishops from all over the Christian world attended, including Nicholas. Their conclusions are what we declare in the Nicene Creed that we say every Sunday at Mass.”

“Did our Saint Nick stand up against this Arius guy?”

“Bishop Nick got so angry with Arius at the Council for saying such false things about Jesus, that he belted him—he hit him with his fist and knocked him down!”

“Wow! What happened to Saint Nick?”

“For doing that, the Emperor took away his vestments, his special bishop's clothes, and his bishop's credentials and threw him in prison. The story goes that Jesus and his Mother appeared to him in a vision in prison and reinstated him as the bishop.”

“What kind of gifts did our Saint Nick give to people?”

“Legends say that Saint Nick always wanted to help people anonymously. He didn't want anyone to know so it wouldn't draw attention to himself. On one occasion he heard that a certain poor man had three daughters who wanted to be married. Their father didn't have money for a dowry so Bishop Nick secretly helped him out.”

“What's a dowry?” 

 

“In those early centuries, a young woman's father had to offer a prospective husband something of value. That was called a dowry. Without a dowry, she was not likely to marry and might have to be sold into slavery. On three different occasions, so the story goes, Saint Nick threw gold coins through their windows where they landed in stockings they hung by the fireplace to dry.”

“Could that be where we got the custom of filling stockings at Christmas?”

“Probably. He is also known for saving three innocent condemned prisoners who were blindfolded and ready for the executioner's sword. Nicholas fearlessly grabbed the sword, cleared them of the unjust charges, and let the men go free. Saint Nick is widely known as the patron saint of children. There are other stories of him rescuing children from danger after they were kidnapped or missing. There is a scary one about three little children lured into the clutches of an evil butcher. At another time three theological students were murdered by an innkeeper and their bodies chopped up and hidden in a pickling tub.”

“That's gross, Grandma. Is it true?”

“Who knows? Stories grow bigger with the retelling. Saint Nick was said to have restored the dead students to life. He had a strong concern for justice, especially for innocent people held in prison. Also for intervening in favor of people unjustly jailed, which was common in those days.”

“He must have been quite an aggressive guy.”

“You could say that, but it was always to defend the true faith of Jesus. The real Saint Nick also destroyed many shrines to pagan idols, drove the demons away, and built churches in their place. He totally destroyed the most beautiful and famous pagan temple dedicated to the goddess Artemis, who was the Roman equivalent of the Greek goddess Diana. Not one stone was left in place. Thousands of churches all over the world are named in honor of Saint Nicholas.”

“Did Saint Nick ever get to the Holy Land?”

“He went there on a pilgrimage. On his way back, the story goes that the ship he was on and the sailors were protected when he prayed, like Jesus did, for God to calm the storm. Many seaports especially in Greece, since Nicholas was Greek by birth, erected statues of him surrounded by small ships made of silver or carved from wood. Sailors even now ask him to pray for their protection. Instead of wishing one another good luck, they say, 'May Saint Nicholas hold the tiller.'”

“Is Dec. 6^th Saint Nick's birthday? How did the custom of giving gifts get shifted to December 25^th ?”

“Dec. 6 is the day he died. Saints' days are always commemorated on the day of death, the happy day of their entrance into eternal life. In early days in Europe gifts were given on Saint Nicholas' day. At that time gifts were mainly nuts, apples, and sweets put into shoes which were left beside beds, on windowsills, or before the hearth.” 

“Where did the idea come from that Santa comes down the chimney?”

“Well, that certainly didn't come from the days of the real Saint Nick. Did you know that chimneys weren't even built on houses in those days? Chimneys didn't come into use until the 13^th century and they were first constructed in northern Europe.”

“A lot of the early Santa pictures you showed me have a hooked staff behind Santa in the sleigh. What's that all about?”

“That custom did come from our real Saint Nick. It is called a 'crozier' and is always carried by a bishop even now in our Churches. It represents a shepherd's staff since a bishop is considered the shepherd of his people, just as Jesus is the Good Shepherd.”

“Bishop Loverde carried a crozier like that when he conducted our Confirmation Mass.”

“He did. And did you notice that in some pictures of Santa today he is carrying a big book? In some European gift-giving traditions the large book represents the record of children's behavior—Santa is checking if they were 'naughty or nice.' But of course the big book we see at Mass from which the priest or the lector reads is the Book of the Gospels or the Holy Scriptures.” 

 

“Where did the idea of the sleigh and reindeer come from?”

“It took generations before the tradition settled on Santa coming on Christmas to bring gifts. In 1821 the first, small, lithographed book was published in America titled The Children's Friend. A 'Sancte Claus' (in German, 'Sankt Nicklaus') was pictured with a red beard arriving from the North in a sleigh pulled by one sort of tired-looking flying reindeer. They were shown landing on a roof by a chimney. Santa began to be thought of as rewarding good behavior and punishing bad. Gifts were mostly safe toys, dolls, and books. In that early picture the sleigh even had a bookshelf! From then on the tradition shifted away from the real Saint Nicholas celebration to the pretend Santa coming on Christmas eve.”

“Grandma, that long-ago picture shows Santa as a tiny man not the big guy in pictures we see now.”

“That was still the idea two years later when Clement Clark Moore wrote the poem 'The Night Before Christmas' for his own six kids. The way the author imagined Santa was 'chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf' and his sleigh was miniature. The description stuck and the poem became famous.”

“Where did that long clay pipe and all the smoke Santa blew from it originate?”

“The traditional pipe was from the Dutch, who were known to be heavy smokers. It wasn't until the end of the 1920s (when Grandma was in kindergarten!) that the American Santa began to be pictured as a normal-sized old man with a hugely fat belly.”

“And his original red beard has became all white and long to match the fur trim on his suit. He has a fat, white mustache, rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes.”

“That's the way the story goes. And he wears snow boots, a wide black belt, and a long-tailed ski cap. But Bishop Saint Nick's hat was called a 'miter,' the special tall, pointed hat of his appointed office.”

“And I guess he likes Coca-Cola, or hot chocolate, and cookies that people leave by the fireplace for him!”

“Now he owns eight reindeer (nine, if you count the new Rudolf with the red nose!) and a bunch of elf assistants who are busy making toys all year. And the toys are really high-tech now!”

“That doesn't sound much like our original, real Saint Nick.”

“For some people Santa Claus replaces the Babe of Bethlehem; --the real Saint Nick points us to the real Babe of Bethlehem, Jesus. 
Today's Santa is pictured as flying through the air from the North Pole; --the real Saint Nick walked this earth helping and caring for people in need. 
The children's Santa was brought on the scene to boost commercial Christmas sales; --the real Saint Nick brought the message of Christ and peace, goodwill toward all.

Santa Claus belongs to childhood fantasy; --the real Saint Nicholas is still a Christian model for all of us.”

WINTER IN MY VALLEY

(A requested encore of one of Leona's winter poems 

to usher in December)

  The wind whines in a minor key
blowing its icy breath
through cracks in our doors
feeling with frigid fingers
for gaps 'neath window sills.

The gust heralds a blizzard that lurks
in the somber gray stretch of sky
and advances

with threatening certainty.

As if to toll a frantic warning bell
the wind tugs at the oak tops
shaking the nearly naked branches
showering the ground beneath
with a flurry of faded leaves.

Sniffing the scent of winter
small creatures scurry about
furtively preparing shelters
vying with burrowing insects
to stockpile their larders
in the seasonal struggle for survival
while pond life retreats

to deepest waters
and puts vital signs "on hold"

till Spring.

Sudden dusk descends

on The Valley. A hush settles over

the silhouetted landscape
the gusty gale subsides
its announcement dispatched.
The first few flakes of snow

soon merge
into sifting, swirling powdered sugar
swiftly frosting peaks

of pointed frozen grass
into stiff meringue on neighboring field and hill
until a silver coverlet obliterates

the familiar.

Accept my invitation, friend
to welcome the appointed storm
by enjoying the polar panorama together
before the warmth of our crackling hearth.
Join me in retreat

behind our Jack-Frost windows
to view the outdoor bluster silently
in snug pleasure and the treasure of good company
as we toast our toes and drink a toast
to the impending snows.

So let us celebrate

the manifest cycle of seasons
and winter's measured approach
in the Shenandoah Valley.

PLUCKING DAISY PETALS

(Excerpt from Leona's book HOSPITAL GOWNS DON'T HAVE POCKETS!)



If I had a daisy, I'd tear the petals off one by one to determine whether I deserve this catastrophe or adversity that has come into my life: “I deserve it?..I don't deserve it!..deserve it?..I don't deserve it!...”

If I brought on my illness by my own actions, I don't want to ask for God's justice. I would be getting what I deserve. I ask for God's mercy. Spiritually, I already received God's mercy and forgiveness for my sins through repentance and trusting Christ. If I ask, “What did I do to deserve this?” am I inferring that I'm too good, too righteous, too obedient to the Lord to have anything bad happen to me? Humility in the sense of modest submissiveness, gentle, patient yieldedness to God's dealings is more appropriate for me as His trusting child. This is not spineless submission, but confident belief in my sovereign God and a commitment to conform to His best blueprint for my life.

Life is seldom fair. In fact, to use a crude term, sometimes life stinks! I have a lot to think through and work out: Is God really in charge? If He is, why does He seem so inconsistent when He allows one person to suffer and not another, when He heals this one and not that one? Why does He allow natural disasters to affect some and not others?

I believe the Scriptures teach that Satan has power, though limited, to mess up God's perfect order at this or any stage of history. Satan tries to thwart God's plans, but God is in ultimate control even over Satan's continual infernal attempts at disorder. I believe that God generously gave mankind freedom of will to choose God's way or reject it to follow our own. Nevertheless, God knows what will happen. Sometimes He supernaturally intervenes on behalf of His people. Sometimes He doesn't.

Sometimes He allows us to be targets of evil people, bad genes, dangerous viruses, or natural disasters without intervening. In the book of Hebrews chapter eleven there is a list of some who escaped tragedies and experienced miracles. But a dreadful list follows of equally godly people who endured incredible sufferings. They were tortured, imprisoned, mocked, beaten, stoned, sawn in half, stabbed, ill-treated, and stripped of everything for Jesus' sake. Such conditions continue across the world today.

God doesn't act on a whim or sometimes look the other way with indifference. He doesn't draw straws to see who should escape and who should suffer, who should get cancer at 35 and who should live a robust life beyond the age of 95. He doesn't do daisy petal plucking to determine His actions.

Man's mistakes or deliberate acts of evil can affect other people and conditions on this planet, which in turn affect me. But of this I am sure—God is good! His dealings with me are for good and not evil. “'For I know the plans that I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans for welfare and not for calamity, to give you a future and a hope'” (Jeremiah 19:11). Whatever good or evil comes into the life of one committed to follow God, even as part of the human condition, is not accidental. I have finite understanding. If I never discover the reason for my illness or adversity, I'll understand it when I put aside my “earth suit” (my mortal body) and arrive in God's presence.

I believe that God is involved in the minutia of human activity, incredible as that seems, because Jesus, the Son of God, said so. He stated that the very hairs of our head are numbered and He even knows when a sparrow falls. Therefore, I believe that my present circumstances aren't random happenings. If I could understand perfectly, I would be God—and I am not.

The whole scenario may seem inconsistent and out-of-control to my way of thinking, but it is perfectly consistent from God's infinite perspective. The point is not that God will be sovereign some day, meanwhile evil forces and human actions are messing up His plans. Our God reigns now! (Psalm 93:1) Everywhere! Always! Since I've voluntarily given Him my life, He reigns and He is sovereign in my present trouble.

This mortal life is not all there is! If it were, I'd feel short-changed and cheated. Life is so brief. We barely get started and gain a little experience when we hear the final bell ring. Nor is human history all there is. I should look at my miniature infirmity or adversity, although it seems enormous to me, against the backdrop of eternity. Not easy, but that's the only way I can gain proper perspective and find the stability I need to endure even the worst that life may inflict. Our God stands above all human history and is weaving it into a beautiful tapestry that will ultimately glorify Him.

I believe, Lord! Help my lingering unbelief and feeble trust and increase my faith. I don't get anywhere when I destroy daisy petals to find out whether I deserve my situation. It is enough to believe that You know, care, and have good plans for me.

GAZING AT MY NAVEL

From chapter “Working My Way Through Spiritual College” in Leona's book HOSPITAL GOWNS DON'T HAVE POCKETS

Setting: Still in the hospital recovering from lung cancer surgery.

(Transferable concepts to whenever we may be at a low point emotionally)

I feel gray and blah, dull and numb, bleak and drab, dismal and somber. Surely I can't be of use to the Lord in this condition. I'm glad there isn't a tag clipped somewhere to my case file identifying me as a “Christian.”

I feel like drawing into my self-pity shell and licking my wounds, although I couldn't reach my tongue around to my back with its 12-inch long incision still held together with 40 tiny wire staples. I'm too tired to think or pray let alone say anything spiritual or uplifting to anyone. I'm gazing at my own navel and wallowing in my gloom. I feel forgotten and forsaken since they gave me the news that I have “The Big C.” I'm sure that if I looked up, I would see a black cloud over my head like the one in the comic strip that floats above Charlie Brown's little friend wherever he goes.

IF I looked up....

But I haven't been looking up. I've been looking down, looking inward. My chin is on my chest. Yes, I know better, but do I always have to act like a child of God? Can't I take a vacation from “being a testimony?” I can't shine for Jesus when my batteries are so low. I'd just as soon leave my light under a bushel or at least under my hospital bed for awhile so no one would see how small my flame is.

A nurse brings me today's mail and the local newspaper. I toss aside the newspaper. Who cares what's going on in the world? Even war isn't important to me, certainly not politics, the economy, or the latest fashions. I only care about my sorry condition.

I shuffle the get-well cards. Here's one from a good buddy who includes a Bible verse in her own handwriting: “I sought the Lord, and He answered me, and delivered me from all my fears. They looked to Him and were radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed” (Psalm 34:4,5). Whoa! Awesome! The Holy Spirit must have led her to send me that special zinger and caused her to mail the card four days ago to arrive exactly at my time of need!

Can I never take the phone off the hook spiritually? I know that God never hangs up on me. The Psalmist gave me good advice: “Bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth” (Psalm 34:1). I suppose the time I spend in a hospital bed is included in “at all times.”

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that I'm not radiating Jesus since I'm looking at myself and not up at Him. The ball is always in my court. Each time I've sought Him in the past He answered and delivered me. Therefore, I should know that He can deliver me again. 

All right, let's get on with it. Lord. I'm sorry for my senseless withdrawal into my shell. “I trust in Thee; teach me the way in which I should walk; for to Thee I lift up my soul” (Psalm 143:8). Lord, change my batteries to “EverReady” charged by Your power. After all, how much effort does it take to reflect Your light? All I need to do is face in Your direction. Since I have Your light within, I should glow automatically. 

Yes, I know all those trite expressions: Faith is best seen in dark times; the stars shine brightest on a dark night; when the going gets tough, the tough get going. Lord, please make such truths real to me. I do want to be a good “radiate-er” for You even here from my hospital bed.

ABOUT MAKING COMMENTS

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Just go directly to my email even if you only want to say a few words. I will never publish anyone's name, or even publish the comment, but it reaches me. Does that help you?

IN DUE TIME...

The physically challenged white 1982 Corvette sat in the yard for years. The owner, my son, had driven it happily in the past, but was too busy now with his career to spend time restoring this collector's treasure. 

Meanwhile, snow fell on the white Corvette through many winters burying it almost out of sight at times. Torrents of rain fell on it year after year; the hot sun beat upon it for many scorching summers. Little creatures scampered in and made their nests in the engine and throughout the interior with considerable destruction.

Also in the meantime there was born unto him a son who from the age of five began to dream about driving his father's handicapped white Corvette some day. Time passed—tricycle time, bicycle time, skateboard time, and a small four-wheeler time, and the boy grew to six feet at age 15. The dream kept stirring in his heart each time he looked at the beloved white Corvette.

After much pleading of the son to the father, the father conceded that due time had come to start restoring together the physically challenged white Corvette. Delighted son and patient, skillful father began to spend many hours and days of bonding time cleaning it up, replacing critter-chewed hoses and connectors—and whatever else enables a car to move. New battery, fuel pump, inflating the tired tires, then the gutting and replacement of the whole interior. 

But before the monster job of their planned total restoration, one chilly autumn day they actually put gas in the tank and got the engine started! What a day! Photo op time! Then the father said unto the boy who was now a young man, “Let's get in. You can drive down the country road!” Due time had come! This was a foretaste of what would be the fullness of time after the young man had passed driver's ed, obtained his learner's permit, and after he became of legal age to drive. This was an appetizer—proud father and his lanky son with a sparkle in his eye finally at the wheel roared down the country road!

Good things come to those who wait for God's due time. The Scriptures are full of phrases like “...it came about in due time..., God gave them their food in due time..., in due time we will reap....” Other time-specific phrases like “in the fulness of time” are scattered throughout the Bible record of events. When our eternal God who is outside of our planet time deals with His human, mortal children, He steps into our time to accomplish His will. He rolls time along at His predestined pace. God stoops to our finite perception of time because that is all we understand until we step over into the eternal dimension when the mortal becomes immortal and time as we perceive it is no more.

Often our Eternal Father makes us wait for our due time until we have reached a certain point in maturity, until the circumstances are ripe, until all things and people are in place for His will to be done. It is then accomplished by loving cooperation between the Father and His children. 

It can be a spiritually bonding time when we learn the lessons of patience in God's waiting room. God doesn't want us impatient mortals to pick unripe fruit; nevertheless He allows us our free will. If we persist in jumping the gun to do our own will, God permits us to taste the consequences, the bitterness of the premature. As the psalmist commented, “He gave them their request but sent leanness to their souls....”

It may not be to our liking to sit around in God's waiting room for His fullness of time even when waiting for God's promises to be fulfilled. God's promises have a due date on them but their shelf life is permanent. Not to worry. They are not perishable; there is no expiration date. Father knows best. There is a time and season for all things—a time to wait, and a time to taste the delicious fruits of due time.

CUDDLE BEAR COTTAGE

I guess it's a tradition if you do it 4 times? At our parish Christmas fair I search for something to write a story about.  It takes a little imagination when one writes backward from the object or the illustration!

By Great-Grandma “Bubi Lee” Leona Choy for Makenna Lee Humes on her Fourth birthday

Once upon a time a friendly bear family named “Cuddle” lived in the forest. This was not the bear family that Goldilocks visited in the story of the Three Bears. There were Four Bears in the Cuddle Bear family and they lived in a different forest neighborhood.

Papa Cuddle Bear and Mama Cuddle Bear had two little bear cubs. Little Girl Cuddle cub was about 4 years old and the other was a newborn baby cub still in a cradle.

Papa Cuddle Bear built a beautiful little house for them and made a sign above the front door. It said “CUDDLE BEAR COTTAGE.” They wrote the word “Welcome” on the door step. They wanted to invite all of the creatures who lived in the woods to visit them. But no one came. They were not sure if the bear family was friendly.

Papa Cuddle Bear climbed on a ladder and put a gold heart above the entrance to their house to show how much they really loved everyone. They wanted to give their visitors a big bear hug and invite them in. But no one came. They were not sure if the bear family was friendly.

The Cuddle Bear family even left the back door open in case visitors wanted to come in through that door. They put a heart with the word “LOVE” on the door so that visitors would know they would be loved even if they wanted to come in by the back door. But no one came. They were not sure if the bear family was friendly.

Mama Cuddle Bear loved flowers. She loved to plant them. She loved to smell them. She wanted to give her flowers to visitors who would come to their cottage. She loved to decorate their house inside and outside with flowers. She planted flower boxes under the windows of the cottage. They bloomed in different beautiful colors. She planted flowers all around the outside of the house. She even asked Papa Cuddle Bear to put flower-shaped windows in the roof. But no one came to visit them. They were not sure if the bear family was friendly.

“There is one more thing I want to try, Papa Cuddle Bear,” said Mama Cuddle Bear. “Please find a flower seed that will grow into a really BIG flower like the one Jack-in-the Beanstalk planted. Then everyone in the forest could see it. Then they would come to visit us.”

Papa Cuddle Bear looked in every flower shop in the woods and finally found the rare special seed that Mama Cuddle Bear wanted. The sales person promised that it was a magic seed. Mama Cuddle Bear was so happy and asked Papa Cuddle Bear to plant it at once at the outside corner of the cottage.

That night the Cuddle Bear family went to sleep, each cuddled in his cozy, warm bed. Newborn Baby Cuddle cub had warm blankets to cuddle under too. During the night it rained little pitter-patter rain drops on the roof but in the morning the warm sun shone brightly. The whole family hurried outside to see whether anything happened to the magic seed while Baby Cuddle cub was still sleeping.

SURPRISE! The magic seed had popped out of the ground and the green stalk grew up and up and UP until it was taller than Cuddle Bear Cottage! At the top was the most beautiful blossom that the Cuddle Bear family had ever seen. It opened up its petals like a tulip.

 

“Look!” said Little Girl Cuddle cub. “Friendly Bumble Bee has come to visit! She is perched on the top of the blossom!” Everyone looked up and sure enough there was Bumble Bee with her yellow and black stripes and big wings tasting the delicious pollen from the magic flower. The Cuddle Bear family was so happy that the very first visitor had found their cottage! Now she would buzz around and let the rest of the woodland creatures know that they should not be frightened to visit and were always welcome at Cuddle Bear Cottage.

And so it happened that Bumble Bee buzzed the good news everywhere she went. Almost all of the creatures in the forest came to visit the Cuddle Bear family day after day. They came to see for themselves the magic flower that grew at the corner of their cottage and to get a friendly bear hug. They found out that the Cuddle Bear family really loved them.

Inside Cuddle Bear Cottage Mama Cuddle Bear gave visitors a slice of homemade bread spread with peanut butter and honey, a favorite snack of Little Girl Cuddle Cub. And each time visitors left, Mama Cuddle Bear gave them flowers from her garden to take back to their homes.