Christmas of 1954 came ten years after my dad’s ship, the USS Princeton, was destroyed in the World War II Battle of Leyte Gulf. That hurled Dad into a long struggle with a psychological python. It also pulled him into wrestling with God; he prayed long and loud in our little house. Dad and his God scared me.
That’s why my brothers and I grew up in the shadow of The Princeton.
Also In 1954, Dad and Mom bought a home on nine acres at the edge of town. The morning after the closing, Dad hated the place. So, his prayers got longer, louder, and scarier. Somehow, Vernon and I—Carl was born later—slowly realized our parents had spent all they had on that place. They only had $9.00 to spend for Christmas. So, they agreed to only buy gifts for their sons.
But on Christmas morning, a pickup from a big lumber yard in town pulled into our driveway. The driver ran up onto the porch and knocked. When Dad opened the door, the man handed him a small box.
“Merry Christmas, Jack. We appreciate your business.”
Dad thanked the man and opened the box to find a beautiful pocketknife. Although the gift was a mere business transaction, Dad dropped into a chair and sobbed. That was the first time I ever saw him cry. Then he looked up at Mom and said, “You’re the only one who didn’t get a Christmas present.”
He couldn’t take it. What Mom, Vernon, and I saw that day was probably the collective force of stress. A rough financial period (which didn’t last very long), deep regrets about a major purchase, unrelenting turmoil over shipmates killed in the Pacific, and a too-long-too-silent God finally blew him apart.
However, in the emotional scene in the dining room, I saw the depth of Dad’s love for his family. For me. My parents were always in love with each other, but before that day, I didn’t know Dad’s love for me. Then, in a raw, spontaneous moment, on Christmas, my dad’s love flooded that little farmhouse.
Like a bead of water holding the image of a mountain, what happened that day caught the character and purpose of Christmas. God’s Love is a dominion of light; it invades the darkness. In the timeless Christmas story, the Light won. It still wins. Every day. Even Dad’s dark night of the soul was no match for the love that walked into our home on Christmas 1954.
That Light swallowed the dark shadow of the Princeton.
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