I started out on the "How do you feel about Christmas?" thread and found Big Mick's story about Timmy in the "Why do we sing?" thread. So, I thought I'd start a new thread in gratitude to Big Mick and others who share the Mudcat spirit, especially at Christmastime.

First, I should say that I am unabashedly a devout Christian. I'm first generation Irish-American and Roman Catholic. Christmas, to me, is about the birth of the baby Jesus and the celebration of what the Christ Child brought into this world: the gospel of love and peace. It's also a celebration of what all children bring to our world: wonder, innocence, generosity, sweetness, vulnerability and potential. And, it's about what we can give our Lord in return for His sacrifice for us: to continue his teachings, and to protect and nurture the vulnerable in our society - the young, the elderly and the people with disabilities -- and encourage their potential.

My beloved and first grandson is also named Timmy. He is the beautiful result of a one-night stand which my son, then a US Marine, had with a woman who can only be described as "trailer trash." All of the men and women in her family are like those described by Big Mick - incarcerated or headed that way, unemployed, unmotivated, in trouble, in debt or in another kind of crisis. Timmy was born eight days before my son shipped out for a very dangerous overseas combat mission, which lasted for a harrowing six months. Yet, my son did arrange to see and bond with his infant before his departure, and arrange for his medical insurance and child support, and for me to have visitation in his absence.

I won't go into the horrors of the many months in which I emotionally and financially supported this ignorant woman and the rest of her desperate family, and tried to help her raise this child, who means the world to me and was my link to my adored son, who was in grave danger overseas. Or, subsequently, the frustration of petitioning the courts and pleading with everyone from the social service agencies to the Governor to have the baby removed from her care. Suffice it to say, she fled an investigation for abuse and neglect in New Jersey, and took my adored grandchild to live in squalor in Mississippi, where, without my intervention, Timmy suffered even more. While there, she had another son, who fared even worse.

The ONLY thing which kept me sane during that awful time of trying to get Timmy returned was the knowledge that there are good, caring people like Big Mick in the world. I trusted that some kind, intelligent soul would recognize that Timmy was in danger and would phone the authorities. And, that is exactly what happened, thanks be to God.

Tonight, my beloved Timmy (now three years old) and his darling little brother, Robbie (just turned two years old), are sleeping peacefully under my roof, warm, safe, well fed and much loved. I have interim guardianship of both children, while my son - now, thankfully, safely completed his active duty in the Marine Corps, gainfully employed and married to a wonderful, kind and generous woman - awaits his final hearing for custody of both boys.

Mick asked, "Why do we sing?" In private, I sing to ease two precious little children to sleep. And, for the first time in public last week (I'm a fiddler, not a singer, but I found a strong voice), at a meeting of grandparents who are caring for their grandchildren, to celebrate their contributions - and those of the Big Mick's of the world - in doing what Christ wants us to do: which is, protect the vulnerable people in our society.

What does Christmas mean to me? As I said at the beginning, it is the Christ child, and all our children, and their wonder, love, innocence and potential, and the people who nurture them. Tonight, we put up our Christmas tree and brought out the crèche. I told Timmy and Robbie the Christmas story and Timmy said, "Poor little baby, he didn't have Nana to take him home."

How can I keep from singing?