In "Dear Santa", I write a tongue in cheek letter to the character of Santa Claus. In truth, attributing godly characteristics to Santa is not new with this column. Santa gets a lot of press this time of year, and, sure, it's meant to be good fun, right?

What is the Truth? Can you find the corresponding Scriptures that disprove everything I wrote? And do you know the One who actually fulfills these words?

Cast our cares
Psalm 55:22
Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous fall.

1 Peter 5:7
Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.

A lot on my mind
Psalm 139
O LORD, you have searched me and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.

Take care of all the gifts
James 1:17
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights

Don’t charge a penny
Ephesians 2:8
For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—

Get what they want
James 4:2-3
You want something but don't get it. You kill and covet, but you cannot have what you want. You quarrel and fight. You do not have, because you do not ask God.

Martie wants peace and love
Colossians 1:19-20
For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.

Eat cookies
Isaiah 55:2
Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.

Now HE is truly magical
Isaiah 9:6-7
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David's throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the LORD Almighty will accomplish this.

So, you see, while Santa may get more display room at the mall, more airtime on TV, and more credit for making little kid's dreams come true, there is something more. Er, I mean, there is someone more. And He is The One.

Have a blessed Christmas and seek out some truth. It's the gift that keeps on giving.

In the final scene of the movie One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, the Chief says to the recently lobotomized McMurphy, "I'm going to take you with me." Then, he leans over and suffocates him with a pillow. He dramatically breaks a window and runs far, far, far away. He is presumably free.

It's funny to watch anew the movies I enjoyed as a teenager and young adult. I actually chose this movie to watch with Dave and our teenaged boys. (Ouch! The language! Ouch! The racy scenes. Ouch!) I had imagined that we would talk about mental illness, the abuse of power, and who decides who is actually crazy, anyway? The story, if you don't know it, is about a criminal who is sent to a mental institution for evaluation. He thinks he is getting a literal "Get out of Jail Free Card" like in Monopoly. He'll ride out his 90 days and then get back to his petty crimes. However, his free-spirited disobedience gets under the skin of Nurse Rachett and the administration, and he is disciplined --shock treatments, brain surgery-- to the point of death.


We didn't talk much about all that, however. Our discussion focused on that last scene. Not the surprise death, but the line, "I'm going to take you with me." I asked the boys, "How is it that he is going to take McMurphy with him if McMurphy is dead?" One simply responded, "He will carry him in his heart."

I've been thinking about that line ever since. I've lost some dear ones, yet they are not really lost to me. Like the Chief, I take them with me. I carry them in my heart.

Mark, I carry you in my heart. You taught me that a smile is a free gift to share liberally. I think of you when I smile.

Lisa, I carry you in my heart. You showed me grace under pressure. You didn't complain even when you were in pain and tired of your long battle. I think of you, and try not to complain.

Adam, I carry you in my heart. You were fully man, fully child, and we loved having you around. I think of you when I serve others as you did.

Lewis, I carry you in my heart. You showed me that blood is thicker than water. You loved the Byrd name and our Byrd children. I think of you and I'm proud to be a Byrd.

Dad, I carry you in my heart. You taught me responsibility, perseverance, and listening skills. I think of you and I'm proud to be a Smith.

Last week we were devastated when Hannah George and her father, Dr. Jeff George, were killed in a terrible car accident. Hannah was a 9th grader at Faith Christian School. Our family and our Faith community have been reeling from this loss which to our human eyes seems senseless and unfair. Yet a glimmer of hope came through as we talked about Hannah with the boys.

You see, one of them said, "I'm going to carry her in my heart."

Dedicated to Hannah and Jeff George, with deep sympathy and prayers to Teresa George, wife and mom.

For as long as I can remember, my dad has signed his letters "Peace and Love". Letters to his six children. Emails. Christmas Cards. He has not deviated. He has not changed with the times. He's been loyal to his signature line, "Peace and Love."

When I was in college, I didn't appreciate letters from my Dad. Full of advice, and columns clipped from the hometown newspaper, they did not seem relevant to my self-absorbed, sorority girl world. They were all signed, you guessed it, "Peace and Love." I remember thinking, "Why not just Love?" I concluded that the sixties had rubbed off on my dad. He was a peacenik, I guess.

Just a few years ago, I became wise enough to understand that Peace is a very important word. It denotes the calm in a storm. It is a gift from God. There is even a Scripture that says that the Lord gives peace that passes understanding. Literally, peace that we can't even fathom. I don't get how that happens. But I've received it. I know it's true.

Now my dad is in his final season. In his hospice bed, he's happy to see his family, but seems happier to see us leave. He doesn't need to be occupied by the TV or funny stories. He's at peace. Now "Peace and Love" is my new benediction. I say it to honor my dad, who always showed me the way. And I say it because it's not just a signature, it's a prayer.

I love you, Dad.

Romans 12:1--Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship.

Scripture tells us to "Offer yourselves as a living sacrifice." Unsure of what exactly this meant, I studied the phrase. Clearly sacrifice means to give yourself up...your desires, your plans. We are called to sacrifice our will for God's purposes. I accept that. I try to do that. Well, most of the time.

Just yesterday, I realized that I put major time restrictions on my version of "living sacrifice." God gives me 24 hours each day. Yet I only want to serve when I feel like it. You see, yesterday morning, a friend called. She thought there might be a bird in her house. "Bats in the belfry is more like it," Dave quipped. I didn't want to go on a bird hunt. I wanted to get on the treadmill. I wanted to pay some bills. I wanted to stay in my house. I had PLANS!

Reluctantly, grouchily, I went. Guess what? No bird. Yet I learned something about myself.

I'm more like, "Living Sacrifice, 9-5." No overtime. No nights. No weekends. I want to give, what I want to give, at the times that are most convenient to me. I have even justified this attitude with scripture. "God lives a cheerful giver!" I'll exclaim. "No one should give under compulsion, only what he's decided in his heart to give." (2 Corinthians 9:7)

In other words, You Can't Make Me.

In Truth, God could make me. He just doesn't. God, in His graciousness, won't make me serve Him. He won't force me to give money, time, skills, or anything. He's not that way. He's watching, though. He's seeing who is truly offering themselves as a living sacrifice, and who is offering a piece of themselves, when it's most convenient. True, both are a sacrifice. But one is more genuine. Perhaps this is what is meant by being "whole-hearted" or "wholly devoted." Hmmm.

So my question to the Lord, and to my dear readers, is this. Is it okay to serve if your heart is not in it? To come to someone's aid, even when you don't feel like it? Is it true that action speak louder than words?

Recently Dave's sister Debbie and her husband Gary were visiting our home. They had arrived the evening before, and we enjoyed a nice meal. We had the morning set aside for coffee and conversation. Our cousin Tricia called to say that her dad was not doing well. Debbie said, "I'll finish this cup of coffee and be on my way." Within 10 minutes, Debbie and Gary were on the road, facing a 6 hour drive, to be with Tricia. They were at her side when her father, Lewis, moved to his permanent home in heaven.

That's a living sacrifice. They saw the need and met it. They didn't make excuses. They didn't say, "We've just gotten here." "We had plans today." "We can come tomorrow." Like the Nike ad suggests, "Just Do It." They did it. I want to be more like that.

Lord, make me a cheerful servant for more hours of every day you've gifted me with. I offer myself to you as a living sacrifice.....every hour, of every day. Lord, whether I'm tired, or exasperated, or my favorite show is on TV, help me to set that all aside. I do want to be wholly devoted to you. And I need Your Power to do it.

We may not be able to see past dinner tonight, but God can. He loves us, so He sent us a helper. (He knew we'd need some help!) So the God of the Universe allowed for believers to have some Advanced Awareness. He sent us the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit will fill in the blanks.

Jesus himself tells us how it's going to work in John 16:12-15.

"I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear. But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come. He will bring glory to me by taking from what is mine and making it known to you."

Let's review. We can't see the future. But God can. And He sent a helper, the Holy Spirit, to guide us. The Holy Spirit will tell us what he hears from God, and tell us what is yet to come. And that will bring glory to Christ.

Advanced Awareness. You don't have to see it in a movie. We can have it...if only we Believe...Listen...and Obey.

The recent hit by Christian singer-songwriter Steven Curtis Chapman was about embracing every moment of life with his daughter.

The refrain goes:
So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Ohh-oh ohh-oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't wanna miss even one song,
Cuz all to soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone
She will be gone.

It's beautiful, haunting, and oh, heart-breakingly true. We can cling to the moments, but we can't stop time. Sadly, Steven and Mary Beth's youngest daughter was gone from sight much sooner than anyone could have predicted.

Maria Sue Chapman (2003-2008)
Maria Sue Chapman, adopted and youngest daughter to Mary Beth and Steven Curtis Chapman, was killed Wednesday night in a tragic accident in the family driveway on Wednesday evening. She was LifeFlighted to Vanderbilt Children's Hospital but for only reasons God can explain she went home to Him... not to Franklin as we all so desperately wanted.

Your prayers are needed for all in the Chapman family. This is a family who has so generously loved and given to so many. Just hours before this close knit family was celebrating the engagement of the oldest daughter Emily Chapman, and were just hours away from a graduation party marking Caleb Chapman's completion of high school. Now, they are preparing to bury a child who blew out 5 candles on a birthday cake less than 10 days ago. These words are unthinkable to type. And yet we trust in a God who was not surprised by this and because of Jesus I am certain through faith in Him we will see Maria again. - Jim Houser (Manager)

Oh Lord, I just don't understand. I pray for the family every time I hear the song on the radio, and invite you to do the same. How could this be God's "A" Plan? Was a mistake made? Am I missing something?

Yes, I am. I still believe the lie that death is the enemy, not the reward. Scripture assures me that leaving this planet is the beginning, for believers, not the end. I remain confused. Yet I'm encouraged by another promise from the King I found while studying today. Jesus said at the Last Supper, "You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand." (John 13:7).

Later I will understand? I'm counting on that, Lord, I'm counting on that....

As Seen in the June 2008 Bella Magazine

I met my husband, Dave, on a plane. I was sitting in his seat but instead of telling me to beat it, he said, “Are you sitting there?” That suave pick-up-line has lived in infamy. Over time he said, “You’re in my seat, you know.” I told him that was impossible since I don’t make mistakes. Famous last words. Comparing our boarding passes showed that he was actually correct. I had indeed made a mistake…my first. I still maintain that the seat numbers were askew and there was nothing I could have done. (Blurred vision due to free margarita bar the night before perhaps contributed to this first error.)

A week later, Dave drove from his home in Annapolis, Maryland to my shabby rental in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to take me out to lunch. From this I concluded that he was very hungry for a cheese steak or he actually liked me. Later that same day he asked me The Question: “How many children would you like to have?”

Note, it was not “Do you want to have kids?” but “How many?“ I figured it out. He was looking for a breeder. A staunch feminist, I still went out with him again. What the heck, he was cute...and he drove 120 miles to see me. We met at Thanksgiving, got engaged that St. Patrick’s Day, and married just after Labor Day. His biological clock was ticking and we didn’t have any time to waste.

Dave was one of those guys who always knew he wanted to have kids. It’s simply took him a few year to find the perfect person to have them with. He waited 36 years to meet me. (The year he enlisted in the Air Force, I enlisted in 4th grade.) Due to advanced paternal age, we started our family as soon as was decent.

A natural father, Dave has always been a master of rough-housing, funny voices and “sure, you can stay up later.” Not a big one for rules, he’s long on fun. We had our three sons in our first two years of marriage. Big brother Alex was joined by twins Danny and Trevor and that got the party started. By then Dave and I really knew each other…for better or for worse.

I was a severely Type A mom who alphabetized my spices, kept a freezer inventory, and labeled all the toy bins. Race cars, Duplos and plastic dinosaurs each had their own bin. My kids could not open a toy bin without my permission. I refused to allow co-mingling of toys. Back then, I didn’t realize that Dave was one of the boys…and that he had every ability to open the bins.

The first time I left him alone with the 3 boys, I came home to a huge mountain of toys. Dave had opened ALL the bins! And dumped them out in the middle of the room! When I started crying, he said, “We’ll pick them up.” He went into the garage, got a snow shovel, and proceeded to scoop the co-mingled toys back into the bins.

I wondered if perhaps we should have dated a wee bit longer before starting a family together.

I am a planner. Dave is spontaneous. I am an organizer. Dave is relaxed. I am a driver. Dave is a napper.

I thank God for Dave. If it weren’t for Dave…our kids wouldn’t have had any fun at all!

Now that we have a houseful of teens, they thank God for their dad, too. If it were up to me, I’d still be choosing their clothes, brushing their teeth and reading them bedtime stories. Dad is the one who takes them white water rafting and skiing on Black Diamond slopes. Dad lets them stay up until all hours watching TV. He snuck the first game system into the house and got them cell phones when they turned 12. In short, he’s the cool one.

But he’s not just fun and games. No, Dad teaches them to finish what they’ve started. He’s modeled devotion to our family and faith in God. Most of all, Dad helps them with math homework.

Where would we be without Dad? So Happy Father’s Day, you crazy dude. I’m thankful to U.S. Air for bringing us together. I appreciate your humor and the fact that you’ve helped me to loosen up. I know the kids appreciate it, too. To celebrate your big day, go ahead and take a nice nap. We’ll wake you up when it’s time to grill.


Martie and Dave Byrd had 5 kids in 6 years. Now that the kids are all teens, they wonder what on earth they were thinking! Martie is a freelance writer and speaker who lives in Roanoke. To contact her, visit martiebyrd.com.

I am a voracious reader and yet I seldom buy books. I've certainly never bought a case of books. But these days, I've been thinking about it. You see, I want everyone to read this book.

It's called The Shack: Where Tragedy Confronts Eternity, by William P. Young. It's the fictional story of a dad who experiences the kidnap and death of his youngest daughter. I know, so far it doesn't sound like a book you'd want to take to the beach. Furiously grieving her death for years, he's surprised to receive a letter from God, inviting him to The Shack, the very site of her murder. In essence, God is giving him a chance to duke it out, to wrestle with Him, to find answers.

It's a must read. I can't say more. You must run, not walk, to your bookstore and get it. I'd send you a copy if I could.

You see, I know what Scripture says about death. 1 Corinthians 15, for instance, verses 50-52:
"Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed— in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed."

Yes, changed, but how? Into what? These are some of the questions that The Shack wrestles with...and answers. I'll tell you the truth. By the end of the book, you just may feel differently about death, heaven and why God allows tragedy.

I've always been annoyed, frankly, at how 1 Corinthians 15 concludes, verses 54b and 55:

"Death has been swallowed up in victory."
"Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?"

I have felt the sting of death. If you have also been stung by death, you've got to read this book. I'm begging you. Then let me know what you think.

And when you're finished with it, pass it on to a friend.

2 Timothy 2:6-7
Fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of hands. For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, of love and a sound mind.


So I've been wondering...what does it take to fan something into flames? Timothy was given a gift, but he's asked to nuture it and let it catch. How? How do embers become flames?

One sure way to kill a fire is to ignore it. This I know firsthand. While recently visiting my dear friend Angela, we were charged by her husband to keep the fire burning. Our non-stop conversation didn't leave us any time for fire-tending. Mere embers were left by the time we turned our gaze on the former roar.

Newspapers, twigs, fire-starters and dry wood did nothing to the dead coals. Blowing on it only resulting in choking me with ashes. Finally, as her husband came up the stairs, I resorted to a desperate prayer..."Lord, let there be light!"

The ensuing gigantic flames nearly burned my eyebrows off.

Do we actually even believe that God has given us gifts? And if so, what are we doing to fan them into flames? Or are we acting like the proverbial wet blanket...putting out the fire with our fear and discouragement? You know, the thoughts like, "I'm not that special. I don't believe I have gifts" and the like?

God knew we'd need to be encouraged. See, the VERY NEXT verses go on to say, "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of love, power and a sound mind." Those are the flames. Nuture them! If there's a spirit of fear, ignore it! Send it away, in the name of Jesus. See, He gave us what we needed to keep the fire burning. The tools are power, love and a sound mind.

Fan the Power into flames.
Fan the love into flames.
Fan the sound mind into flames.

Just like the fire at Angela's house...do whatever it takes! And don't give up.
God has not given you a spirit of fear. Instead, He's given you gifts and abilities. It's up to you to use them.

Fan the flames!

I love the news on Yahoo. The story bursts are exactly as short as my attention span. Often you can tell the whole story by the headline. Like this recent one:

Shopping in Lousy Mood Will Cost You.

A quote from the LiveScience article sums it up:

Participants who were feeling blue and also had a high level of self-focus were the biggest spenders.

This combination, sad and high self-focus, likely causes individuals to devalue themselves and their current possessions. The result, (researchers) say, is an increased willingness to dole out more for material goods, presumably to enhance the sense of self.

Today, I'm hearing the siren call of irrational spending. When feeling down-in-the-dumps, there's one place that calls my name. Goodwill. There's always something fun to see, try on, consider, and buy. For years I've justified my Goodwill habit as actually superior spending, since it's 10% of the expenditure of a typical trip to the mall. My kids have caught the Goodwill fever. Recently Caroline needed spring clothes and requested a trip to Goodwill. She said, "Look, Mom, we filled a whole cart for the same price we'd spend on one pair of jeans at Limited, Too!" Like mother, like daughter.

Sensible spending is important. But emotional, need-to-feel-better-so-will-shop is a trap....no matter where you end up spending.

The Sad Shoppers article debuts in the June edition of Psychological Science magazine. But it's not news. Isaiah 55:2 says: "Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare."

Next time you feel blue and dissatisfied, take it to The Big Guy. Ask Him to show you true satisfaction. It's a free gift from God. And hide your car keys. The feeling will pass...and the peace will last.

As seen in the May 2008 issue of Bella Magazine

Nothing like having a few teenagers to take the wind out of your sails. My little lovelies, for instance, take near constant delight in correcting me. It’s hard to imagine that I’ve misspoken, mispronounced or misjudged as often as I do now that I have a houseful of teens. They constantly point out my errors. It’s like living in a minefield.

“That’s not how you say it, Mom!”
“You just told us that a second ago!”
“I told you that first. Geez!”

Humble, her name is Mother of Teens. Mother of Teens is not paid in butterfly kisses and dandelion bouquets like her sister, Mother of Toddlers. Oh no, those days are long gone. Yet there are so many benefits to having Big Kids, as I lovingly call my teens. As a Mother of Teens, I extract my payment, er, love in other ways.
Consider this. Big kids can carry in all the groceries…and put them all away. Big kids can wash the car…and drive it to the library to return my overdue library books. They can cut their own toenails, brush their own teeth and in general, do all their own personal hygiene. (When they feel like it, that is.) Big Kids can make dinner …and do the dishes afterwards. It’s a delight. When you have teens, every day is Mother’s Day.

Now some might say that Sunday, May 11th, mark the date, Mother’s Day, is just another Hallmark holiday. Cynics. Many mothers would protest coyly, “I don’t need a WHOLE DAY” while secretly wondering why a 3-day weekend wouldn’t be more commemorative. I think that Hallmark took over where preschool teachers left off. Think about it. Preschool teachers do a glorious job with their Mother’s Day celebrations. I once was so desperate for recognition, I bought a new van so I wouldn’t miss the Mother’s Day Tea at preschool. (True story.) That hotplate with our child’s handprint still occupys a position of honor in the kitchen. Once out of preschool, however, the Love Fest Ends. It’s every child for himself. That’s why we need Hallmark…to remind, guilt or otherwise plague our offspring into sheepishly recognizing us, if only once a year.

Moms, relax. The accolades will come. They might not come on Mother’s Day. They may not be in a card that cost $4.95 and plays “Wild Thing.” But you’ll feel the love, in various ways, as your Big Kids become adults. Here are some moments I’ve either experienced or dreamed about.


Academic Award Day. You’ve stopped paying attention because the child being lauded sounds so perfect, so gifted, so wonderful that you know it can’t be yours. As you’re digging in your purse for a stick of gum, you hear your own child’s name called! With tears of pride, you realize your tissues are in the car…with the camera.

High School Field Trip Day. Other people’s sons and daughters fight to be in your car because they heard you are cool and that you stock in Skittles for the ride as well as let them listen to their radio station full blast. Your child can’t suppress a grin because, hey, that’s my mom.

Poker Day. You cajole your way into the game with a bunch of hairy teens who laugh at you and your ineptitude…until you win every hand.

Graduation Day. In the commencement address your valedictorian quotes Abraham Lincoln: “Everything I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.”

Wedding Day. The bride-to-be thanks you with sobs for raising the perfect mate for her. In particular she is grateful that he always lifts the seat and takes out the trash without being asked.

First Grandchild. They’ve decided to honor their sweet mother by naming their baby girl after you.

(Okay, this is where my kids draw the line. I’ve floated these fantasies out there and no one is cooperating. Julia did name her obese Lots-To-Love doll “Baby Martie” in hopes of satisfying me. I’ll take what I can get! )

So hang on, Mothers of Teens. Hang on, even if you have to make your own breakfast on May 11th. Hang on, even as you make dinner reservations so you don’t have to cook on “your special day.” You are loved. Dearly loved. The teens just like to keep it a secret, is all. But your day is coming. They’ll honor their mother one day. I’ve seen it in my dreams.

Martie Smith Byrd would like to take this opportunity to thank her mother, Claire, for raising such a nice girl. Thanks, Mom, for being Girl Scout Cookie chairman, picking me up from crew practice, and always liking what I write. I love you! Martie is a motivational speaker and freelance writer who lives in Roanoke.