Because of the attack on Pearl Harbor, my parents moved up their wedding plans and were married in October of 1942. After a brief honeymoon in the Great Smoky Mountains, they packed up what few belongings they had and moved to Camp Campbell (now Fort Campbell), where my father began his military service during the war. He was later sent to England with the Fifth Armored Division in preparation for the invasion of Europe, while my mother stayed at home with their first-born son. They corresponded by “V-mail” as often as they could and my mother saved all his letters. While in England, my father was able to see the special military release of the film “Holiday Inn,” with Fred Astaire and Bing Crosby. The most notable song in the film was White Christmas, by Irving Berlin. My father wrote back to mom that he thought it was destined to be one of the greatest Christmas songs of all time. He was not alone in that prediction. When my mother finally saw the film for herself, all she could do was cry for all those thousands who would never return home for that hoped for white Christmas in a time of peace. My father was numbered among those who did return home in 1946. Many years later, as I grew up listening to White Christmas, it did not escape my notice that mom and dad were always holding hands as they listened to Bing Crosby sing the verses as only he could. When the sequel to “Holiday Inn” was released, I assumed this was the film that made the Christmas song so famous. But the newer film “White Christmas” was set in Vermont just after the war. It was years later that I finally saw the original and understood why it had such an impact on my parents and thousands of others who had gone through that terrible war.
To be away from family and friends is difficult enough in peacetime, but a separation by war across the oceans for months or years is all the more heart wrenching. The longing my parents had to be together again was shared by many thousands during those years. Small wonder that my father never wanted to be anywhere but home for Christmas. It was the most important day of the year for him, and my brothers and I still have the old movies to prove it. Even though most of my parents’ generation has passed away, the memories are still there. It continues to be hard-wired into our collective consciousness that during this time of year we long to be at home. All the separations that have driven us apart no longer matter. We want to go home and be with the ones we love and who love us. There is no greater love than that which God has for us. We know that our true home is in God, and while we are in this world, we can find no closer experience of our home than in Christ Jesus our Lord…our Emmanuel!