I visited three of our vacationing children.  I stood astonished at the door of their concrete garage.  After my eyes got used to the twilight, I closed the rough steel door behind me.  At the back of the garage, the grandmother, mother, and three children were crowded onto a foldout bed.  The father lovingly invited me in and offered me a seat.  I hugged ten-year-old Robi, twelve-year-old Maria, and twelve-year-old Petra.

My first question was, “Are you coming to Déva for New Year’s?”  “No, we want to stay at home with our parents,” they replied in unison.

In the little garage it is dim, and the condensation on the walls shines like a multitude of teardrops.  There is no Christmas tree here, and there is no delicious food cooking or baking.  These children are not going to watch a New Year’s show or light fireworks.  There is nothing here customary to this holiday, yet these children still want to stay here.  In their parents’ arms, here in the heatless garage, their parents’ body heat is their only source of comfort in the cold and dark.

I stand amazed and marvel at the love that God has fused into the family, that infinite attachment with which these people cling to each other.   These children, if they became detached from their mother’s embrace, in only twenty minutes could be in a bathtub full of hot water, put on clean clothes, and prepare for the New Year’s celebration together with their friends in Déva.  These children have been with us for four years, enjoy being at Déva, and everyone likes them because they are nice, quiet, sweet children.  They didn’t choose to stay out of duty to their parents; they are old enough that they knowingly sided with their loved ones.

I’m amazed at this forgotten, poverty stricken family.  They are together!  The mother warms her children with her body, and the weary father has tried to do what he could, but unfortunately his abilities only brought him this far.  Above their heads, capitalism’s wild waves, which only chooses and lifts on its shoulders the best, slammed together.  The rest, like refuse, are washed down the sewer.  It is evident that this married couple is unable to provide the goods necessary for life.  Yet still, they are together, and some ungraspable happiness and love penetrates the misty twilight.

I feel the presence of God behind the love and attachment of this New Year’s Eve.  I am walking in Bethlehem’s misty, dark stable.  I bow my head, and like someone who sees a miracle, I begin the new month and year with a renewed faith. 

This little family’s embracing love is a reflection of the infinite Love at Bethlehem for our world.  And while this Love exists and the children get to weave their arms around their mother’s neck, every new year brings new miracles and promises life.  I feel that it is worthwhile living in this world in which such large miracles occur in quiet.

With love, I wish that you can celebrate the new year in the arms of your loved ones!

Böjte Csaba ofm