What that means, is that all of my original, immediate family are now gone. I do, however, have another immediate family for which I am eternally grateful; and I do have much to be grateful for in addition to my "new" family...
But I must say, that since my original, immediate family are no longer with me, Christmastime has never been the same. And I'm not talking about Santa Claus, or Christmas Trees, or presents, or good cheer -- whatever that means these days. What I am talking about is that special feeling, if you will, of having my mom, dad, and brother in my life, knowing that I can visit them or call them on the phone, or give some type of support if need be, and, in the case of my brother, lecture him on the way he was living his life (which, I contend, was one of the reasons he died so suddenly. Note: I am, or I was, being judgmental of his chosen lifestyle; I had a duty to do so for the sake of his immortal soul. At one point, while on the phone, he told me that no one was going to tell him what to do, or how to live his life; I said someone is: Satan. The thing is, he didn't tell me to go fly a kite, neither did he hang up on me; he listened to what I had to say. I just hope that I made a positive impression on him, and that at his last moment on earth, he had a chance to beg for mercy from the Just Judge -- of us all).
I grew up in an Italian/American/Catholic household in the Bronx, New York. When I was born, the president of the United States was Harry Truman; he took over the presidency when Franklin Roosevelt died while still in office, back in 1945, toward the tail-end of World War II.
Christmas was always a special time for me, and, I suspect, as well for my now-departed brother, and for most little people all across the American landscape. As it usually goes, there was the Christmas tree, presents under the tree, snow outside our apartment building; visiting the relatives up in Yonkers, or they visiting us, down in the Bronx...
We had to go to Mass on Christmas day, and remember just Who that special day was really for. As Catholics, there was no question about that, but at the same time, did I really know which was more important: getting gifts or adoring the One that came into the world to redeem us -- the real gift of life, and love!?
Jumping forward to my late teens, I entered the military and just over two years later, I found myself in a strange, war-torn country in Southeast Asia: Vietnam. I arrived about two weeks before Christmas of 1967; what a Christmas "gift"! But I was honored to do my part in keeping the South Vietnamese people free from Communist domination, at least for about 10 years or so...
Christmas -- and all other holidays meant little to me, in the sense that I had to concentrate on the job at hand, and not be distracted from my duties: keeping the Viet Cong enemy from infiltrating our air base and killing my brothers and destroying the aircraft that tormented those pagan monsters on the battlefield. And make no mistake, they were monsters, often killing their own countrymen in the most heinous of ways.
One of my duties was to escort the Vietnamese nationals that worked on base back to their town just after dark. I was usually the machine-gunner in the Jeep. If the VC wanted to "hit" us, they could easily do so, as we were easy to pick-off from sniper positions hidden along the roadside in the tall grasses and rice paddies...
When we entered the town (or city) of Tuy Hoa (pronounced: two-ee-wha), driving down "main street", it was plain to see all the buildings pockmarked with bullet holes as the result of gun-battles right smack in the middle of town. And these people lived there?? Yes, they did!
From there, things went down hill, so to speak... But, I survived, and I came back to "the world" just before Christmas of 1968; another gift!
I was a changed man... I really didn't care about Christmas or anything else, for that matter, and that started a long journey away from my faith.
Time frame: over 20 years of drifting.
I'm back now: the best gift of all!
Back to the title of this article: Christmas = Santa Claus; Christmas Trees; Presents; Good Cheer?
Is that what Christmas is really all about?
What do we tell our children about Christmas? (We are still allowed to do so, even in this politically correct world we live in.) Do we put gifts under the tree; drink eggnog, overeat and maybe suffer some heartburn? Do we think about the real reason for the season? The birth of the Christ-child, and why He came to us? We see the Nativity creches on church grounds and elsewhere. Who do we see? The Child, of course, but also His Blessed Mother, and the great St. Joseph, her most chaste spouse. They are called the Holy Family, the same Holy Family that had to flee to Egypt to escape the evil King Herod. Remember, it was Herod that ordered the killing of all children two-years old and under in an attempt to kill the Child, as he saw Him as a threat to his reign as king. A Child a threat to this reign??
As tradition tells us, the Family was almost left out in the cold, but was eventually able to find some measure of shelter where the Child was born of the Virgin... (Think about that for a moment!!!)
Will the Child and the entire Holy Family be left out in the cold -- of our hearts this year? Will we value our trees, gifts and food, more than the greatest valued gift of all: our supreme chance of attaining Heaven because of this little Child, and what He eventually went through for our sakes?
Do parents around the country at least attempt to tell the story of the Holy Family and what it means, that is, if the parents themselves know. I wonder sometimes... But it is the duty of parents to teach, nurture and inform their offspring about what is truly important in this life. The culpability of not doing so will be extreme...
Pray for discernment this Advent and Christmastime, and pray for our country too...
Gene DeLalla
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