When I was about seven or eight years old, I woke early on Christmas morning, the air still tinged with the soft, sleepy blue of dawn. The house was quiet except for the faint creak of floorboards as I tiptoed toward the living room, drawn by the familiar glow of the Christmas tree and the comforting warmth radiating from the fireplace. Christmas mornings in our home always started early so we could celebrate together before my dad left for his hospital rounds.
As I rounded the corner near the bookshelves, I stopped in my tracks. There, in my usual corner by the fireplace, was a mysterious, mountain-like shape cloaked in darkness, its silhouette both strange and exciting. It wasn’t wrapped like the other presents. It loomed, a dark navy and black figure, almost alive with possibilities.
Curiosity outweighed hesitation, and I moved closer, reaching out tentatively. The material was cool to the touch, taut-like fabric stretched over poles. It wasn’t until I unzipped the front flap that realization hit me—a tent! Not just any tent, but my very own.
At that point in my life, I had never been camping, so this gift felt like a ticket to a whole new world. I crawled inside, the nylon whispering under my knees, and discovered the softest, smoothest sleeping bag I had ever touched, its silky folds wrapping around me like a cloud. It was subzero-rated—perfect for those frigid Mississippi winters! (That still makes me smile.) Beside the sleeping bag was a small lantern, just waiting to light my imaginary adventures.
That Christmas morning, I spent the entire day in my tent. It became my sanctuary, my castle, my escape. I curled up in the sleeping bag, flicked on the lantern, and dreamed of the places I could go. Those three gifts—a tent, a sleeping bag, and a lantern—weren’t just items. They were promises of adventure, creativity, and a world beyond what I’d ever known. They stayed with me for over a decade, a constant reminder of that magical morning.

Christmas has always been, at its heart, about the birth of our Savior. It’s a time to honor faith and reflect on the greatest gift we’ve ever received. But it’s also a time to embrace the wonder, the magic, and the creativity that makes this season so special. For me, that magic lives in moments like that Christmas morning—the space where imagination bridges fantasy and reality.
At BREAD, we cherish this kind of creativity. It’s what drives us, what fuels the work we do for our clients and the stories we tell. Christmas reminds us to nurture that childlike sense of wonder, to see the world not just as it is but as it could be.

This Christmas, as you celebrate the birth of our Savior, I pray your home is filled with that same wonder and creativity. Let the house be messy. Crawl into a tent with your kids. Read stories by lantern light. Play. Dream. And live in that beautiful space between fantasy and reality, if only for a little while.
That’s where I’ll be, and I hope to meet you there.