YOU might already be celebrating Christmas day, as you recieved this issue of Pinoy Balita. I want YOU, OFWs, to remember that the first Christmas was celebrated by a family in a foreign land in a lowly manger deprived of electricity, water and other necessities. What mattered most was love and peace in their hearts. To give emphasis to this point, instead of writing my usual column, I am sharing with you the following Christmas story shared with me by a friend..

     "I suppose one can't think of a lower place for Christ to dwell than an execution chamber at a Texas prison. But I heard it with my own ears. Early one recent Sunday morning while driving to church I was listening to the BBC's overnight service. I just turned in to hear the clipped accent of an upper class British woman telling her story in an interview. I missed the first minute or so, but for some reason she had been corresponding with an inmate on death row in Texas for nine years. They had formed a close relationship, almost like mother and son. But now the time arrived for his execution. He wrote and asked if she would come, and she agreed.

     I tried to imagine how she looked that night, this woman with such sophisticated voice, as she ushered into this tiny room with a large window, along with a few other relatives and a smattering of reporters. The victims' families (she didn't forget them) were in an adjacent room, but she couldn't see them. The young amn who she had only seen in a picture he sent was solemnly ushered in by three guards, accompanied by a chaplain and the warden, strapped by leather belts to a gurney.

     She explained that over their years of correspondence he had told her, among other things of the physical and sexual abuse he had endured from his mother. He had forgiven her, for ove the years he had become a Christian. He had asked her to be present at the execution. She said she could not or would not. But she had one request of her son. She asked that he sing Silent Night, Holy Night before he died. Now I was riveted to the radio while I was parked out beneath the canopy.

     The man was given an oppurtunity to speak. He first addressed the victim's family. He told them that he was terribly sorry from the bottom of his heart. Now he would give anything to live his life over and not have caused them such sorrow. The he addressed his British "mother". He said he loved her and thanked her for being there for him all those years. Finally he said goodbye to all.

     Then, as the executioners began to connect his arm to the plastic tube, he suddenly broke out in a rich baritone voice singing the immoral words of Silent Night. The woman said she always thought of the song as a kind of lullaby, but his rich deep baritone made it sound, well, somehow like a song of triumph. He began to sing:

Silent Night, Holy Night,

All is calm, all is bright

Round yon virgin, mother and child,

Holy infant so tender and mild,

Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace.

     During the song the drip of lethal injection had started so that toward the end of the first stanza trailed off as his body stiffened.

***

     As we celebrate our Christmas day in places where fate has brought us, keep in mind that we are far better off than the repentant criminal above who celebrated his Christmas in a death chamber yet found love and peace in the end. Let us pray for him by singing the second stanza of the song.

Silent Night, Holy Night,

Son of God, love's pure light.

Radiant beams from thy holy face

with the dawn of redeeming grace,

Jesus, Lord at thy birht, Jesus lord at thy birth.

     On Christmas day, let us light candles to symbolize the light of Jesus who came down to our dark world, to the very darkest place, to redeem us all.

     Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all of you.