(originally posted at kos)
As a child, I used to sneak into the living room after dark and stare at the Christmas tree. I’d watch the lights blink shades of red and blue upon the wall while listening to the slow crinkle of the angel up above. Her wings moved so beautifully and methodically atop the tree. From top to bottom, the decorated pine would sparkle in the darkness of the living room. Even the paper of the wrapped presents underneath seemed to glimmer, their inherent mysteries unknown, adding to the magic of the evening. I could watch for hours, there alone, in the dark… experiencing Christmas.
Now, my experience is different. I’ve matured, I suppose, and Christmas has become more about sharing time with family and friends rather than mysteries and magic under the Christmas tree. Nowadays I ask for the new packages of Hanes t-shirts, the ones I used to hate to get, but now I’m happy when I do. Remembering that clothing gifts used to constitute a waste of wrapping paper for me is only one indicator of how Christmas has changed as I’ve gotten older. The older I get, the more it becomes about family.
That’s what makes their absence, and its implicit emptiness, felt more acutely around the holidays.
This year, I know two people who will be away, one family, one friend. My family member is Jimmy, husband to my younger sister and exceptional father to both my nephews. My friend is Justin, a boy who worked for my father’s antique mart in rural North Carolina during high school. He sought me out after enlisting in the Army as an ally to his self-discovery. We’ve continued to keep in touch via email. Knowing they’re at war, I can’t help but put myself in their place and ask how it feels. Are they okay? Do the holidays make it harder for them too? How are they handling it? How do they cope? What is it like for them, in the desert, exploring and defending a foreign world, away from their families on Christmas?
As sullen as my mood can turn when considering those questions, it was nice when, unexpectedly, I received an email from Justin that not only gave me some of those answers but subsequently puts a smile on my face too. He sent me some pictures, from Iraq, and it was a welcome surprise… it was sort of an unexpected present.
This is what the boys of HVAC came up with for their Christmas tree in Iraq. It’s the sawed-off top of a palm tree stuck in the condenser side of a –39 ECU airconditioning unit, complete with colored light bulbs roughly strewn across the front and an angel atop made from an empty propane tank. When life gives you lemons, I guess you make lemonade. Or, to steer from cliché, when life gives you desert palms and broken down air-conditioning units, you make Christmas trees.
(He even sent a 30 second video of it blinking. Listen to the planes overhead…)
We may not have the pleasure of having all our friends and family around us for the holidays, but as we all gather around our respective symbols of what this time means to us, we come together in our hopes, thoughts, and prayers that our soldiers, our friends, and our family members at war remain safe.
For me, it’s Jimmy and Justin who will be missing around my Christmas tree this year. I’d like you to keep them in your prayers. If you happen upon this diary and feel so inclined, leave the names below of the ones you know who are serving in Iraq this Christmas. I’ll be praying for yours too.
Still, for all that’s sad about them not being here, there is happiness in these pictures. In the face of the utter unknown, their spirit remains high. They’re taking what they’ve been given and are making the best of it… and even sharing it amongst themselves and giving it to others. If that’s not the spirit of the holidays, then what is?
We’re all united in our love and support of the members of our military, regardless of religion or politics. Let’s continue the good work we’re doing to get them back safely and swiftly. We’ve done them good so far. Let’s continue to get better.
I wish you all the best this holiday season but especially…
Merry Christmas, from HVAC.
