an email reminder

A few months ago my friend Eileen turned me on to a sight called Soul Surfing - it emails me daily scripture readings and a prayer to go along with it. Sometimes I don't have time to read it right then so I save it for later (when I have the time to let it sink in). I must admit that at times I have several to read but I never feel like I can delete them. This morning I was going through email deleting email that I knew I didn't need to read and accidentally double clicked on one of my Soul Surfing emails that I had not read yet. I took it as a sign and read it. It spoke to me and made me cry so here it is.




"The virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means 'God is with us.'" (Matthew 1:23)

Fourth Sunday of Advent
Fr. Robert deLeon, CSC

While the near hysterical media screams to us that there are but a few shopping days left 'til Christmas, the scripture readings we hear today from Isaiah and Matthew offer even more startling news: Forget the shopping! He's already here! God is with us in the largeness of the human heart that often finds its warmest expression at this time of year.

Still, it is the season of gift-giving, and undoubtedly the best gift one can give is the reminder that God is with us in the care we show one another. How, though, to integrate this most Christian of attitudes with the less spiritual buying frenzy that sets the culture on edge at this time every year? Let the true story of one family's holiday celebration serve to spur us on to a like response.

"It's just a small white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree; no name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.

"It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas -- not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it: the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma -- the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else. Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties, and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.

"Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.

"Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, 'I wish just one of them could have won,' he said. 'They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them.' Mike loved kids, all kids, and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball, and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came.

"That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years.

"For each Christmas, I followed the tradition, one year sending a group of emotionally challenged youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on. The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning, and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.

"As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year to cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad.

"The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us." (Original source unknown)

In today's scripture readings, we hear both Isaiah's prophecy and Matthew's declaration that the prophecy has been fulfilled: "The virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means 'God is with us.'" (Isaiah 7:14; Matthew 1:23) Even as we stand at the edge of the yearly celebration of God's coming among us, our care for one another boldly proclaims him already here.

So, let our Christmas gift-giving be simple, even silly, for what matters most has already been given and received, a thing understood only by the heart, a thing incomprehensible to the wild-eyed retailers hawking fool's gold in winter's chill.