Bah Humbug
by Mike Litrel, M.D.

he community's adults - and children especially - to act and entertain. For this particular adaptation, Ms. Grooms herself had written the libretto for the musical numbers.

My sons Joseph and Tyler numbered among her students this summer. They were not her best nor, I suspect, her favorite. Having instructed hundreds and thousands of children over the years, Gay expressed her concern about the behavior of our boys during their week at drama camp. The phrase "attention deficit hyperactive disorder" may have been mentioned. This was not the first time it had come up, but I still didn't want the kids on medication.

Although on certain days, Ann and I have needed medicating ourselves.

As we prepared to leave for the Arts Center, Tyler and Joseph began to recall how poorly they had behaved this summer. Tyler requested a disguise to hide his identity. That proved to be unnecessary, as Ms. Grooms, in addition to being a wonderful talent, is also a forgiving soul.

Girls and boys dressed in 19th century garb opened the performance, ascending the stairs singing Christmas carols. Their tender faces, full of hope and earnestness, shone with a warmth that was palpable. I felt my Bah Humbug mood begin to thaw.

Then Ebeneezer Scrooge, attired in his nightshirt, flung open a window and shouted at the children, "Get OUT of here!" The children shrieked and scattered in dismay.

All I could think was - "SCROOGE! You're my man!"

Think about it. Why spoil a perfectly bad mood? We have every reason to be Scrooge-like. We are born into these mortal bodies, entering a world of suffering. Everything that matters to us, every person we love, will eventually, inevitably, be gone. In the words of the famous (profane) Philosopher, "Life sucks. And then you die."

But for the next ninety minutes of "A Christmas Carol," the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future worked their magic on me, just as they did on Scrooge so long ago. Christmas is the time to be reborn, to recollect the beauty of life, despite finding ourselves in the winter of our souls. I watched Scrooge: his happy youth, his mighty disappointments, his hardening into bitterness and hate and a life of no faith - and finally his redemption: a moment of clear sight, the joy of his return to that from which we all come - God.

Losing faith is not the end of the world. I'm not sure that an unquestioned faith is always a strong one - not nearly so strong as faith that has been questioned and come through the fire. Christ cried out on the cross, wept that His Father had forsaken him. It is the return to Life that is glorious - the return, when we see that our Creator awaits us.

Even Tyler was moved. Forgetting about his fights with us and his teacher this summer, he told me he wanted to try out for the next play. And had I seen all the little girls, singing like beautiful angels?

As a matter of fact, I had.

Dr. Litrel is a surgeon in private practice with Cherokee Women's Health Specialists in Canton and Towne Lake, and is a Clinical Professor at Emory Medical School. His new book on faith and health is called "The Eyes Don't See What the Mind Don't Know." It is available at www.doctor-mike.net. Dr. Litrel lives in Woodstock with his wife Ann and their two sons, Tyler and Joseph. E-mail: mikelitrel@comcast.net.

The radio played "Deck the Halls" as our car crawled through traffic. My family and I had joined the teeming masses circling the mall the day after Thanksgiving. "Tis the season..." chimed the cheerful voices, donning their "gay apparel" and so on. Before the last "Fa la la" had been sung, I had had my epiphany: the day could not be worse.

Then the kids started fighting in the backseat.

I don't hit my children. It's not because I'm a good person or a Democrat or something. I'm just afraid that once I start pounding on them, I won't be able to stop.

Ann and I use "time out" in the bathroom instead. The bathroom, a parenting tape once advised us, is the most boring room in the house, and children, more than anything else, hate boredom. Hence, time out in the bathroom. All told, it's worked pretty well.

But now we were stuck in a car with two maniacs, and no bathroom in sight. The parenting tape had neglected to mention a backup plan. In desperation, I resorted to threats and seething, while the mood in the car became less and less jolly. Suddenly a Starbucks loomed by the roadside, and inspiration struck.

We pulled over and Ann and I had an impromptu date. We left the children in the car and waltzed into the coffee shop for a leisurely cup of cappuccino and a couple of pastries. Yum yum. Twenty minutes later and in excellent spirits, we returned to the car, where Tyler and Joseph were sulking in the back seat. I made sure they knew all about the delicious crumb cake we had eaten. Both boys lamented how hungry they were, and how their empty aching stomachs could use a donut or two.

I basked in the satisfaction of a well executed punishment.

But even so, the feeling of "Bah Humbug" lingered. It seemed appropriate to accept an invitation to attend a performance of "The Christmas Carol" that evening at the Towne Lake Arts Center. The Center is run by Gay Grooms, who has taken on the incredible job of teaching t