Feast of the Holy Family

Today is the First Sunday of the Christmas Season ... Sunday within the Octave of Christmas ... and the Feast of the Holy Family.

Our family ... such as it was ... would not be the kind of family that anyone would even consider comparing to the Holy Family.

That includes me ... well me at one time anyway ...

But things have changed. For me they have changed enormously, beyond words. My mother's decline and death ... and the days and weeks and months since then ... have left me with a very, very, very different view of my own family than I had in the past ...

Mom ... and (yes) Dad ... and Grampa and Grandma ... maternal & paternal ... and all their forebears ... those I know a little about ... and the many, many, many I know nothing about ... not even their names ... all of these have from me today really nothing but deepest, deepest, deepest gratitude.

Thank you dear dear dear Momma.

Thank you all.

I keep thinking of this picture of Momma in her picture album. It's just after WWII. She and Dad have set up their very first house in Columbia. It's winter, and Momma is looking back at the house, ice and snow everywhere. The caption of the photo says that the tree by the house is bent low under the ice. You don't in the photo really even see Mom's face very well. But her bundled up figure, and the way she's twisting back to look at the bent-over tree and the house ... her very first home for what she planned to be her new family ... oh my my my ... Mom looks so wistful, so full of hope, so full of young energy ... energy she placed at the service of a dream, a dream of family, a family under God. Oh my. That was ... when? 1946? 1947? Ah me ... so long ago ... but that photo ... oh I've been thinking about it since I saw it, looking at photo albums a few days after Momma died 4 short months ago ... and even if our family turned out in some ways tragically ... even if all families turn out, in the end, very tragically indeed ... even so ... even so ... isn't there so much to admire in a woman and a man who labor to build a family with such courage and tenacity and perseverance and joy and sadness ...

Oh thank you Momma ... thank you so much. I will never, ever, ever be able to express the smallest fraction of the gratitude I have in my heart for you. And for your God, and my God, who vouchesafed you to me. Who allowed little Charles Delacroix the sheer privilege of having you for a Momma. Who allowed me the Grace ... the sheer Grace ... of being your son.

Oh but Momma ... how I miss you ... I miss you so much ... so much ... so much ...

I'm going to the grave to pray for you now dear Momma. Yesterday morning, Aunt Edna and Cousin Rose came by the grave. The funeral home lady came by to inspect the grave marker. I thanked her, and asked her to thank all responsible, for managing to get it placed there the Friday before Christmas. Aunt Edna and Cousin Rosanna both said that they think the marker looks wonderful. So do I. I am so grateful, Lord, and so grateful, Momma. Thank you thank you all.

But oh how I miss you Momma ..............................................

Lord Jesus please please please please please take good care of my Momma ...

I love you Lord Jesus
I love your Most Holy Family
I love my Momma, true if tragic Ikon of your dear Mother, O Lord

I love you all

And am grateful to you all

Charles Delacroix
Sunday within the Octave of Christmas
Feast of the Holy Family