by Spc. Jameka Roberts
OKINAWA, Japan (Army News Service, Dec. 16, 2002) - Deployed thousands of miles from home to fight the War on Terrorism, it's comforting to see how those in uniform find meaning in this holiday season.
For instance, among my fellow 9th Theater Support Command reservists deployed here on Okinawa, I know that one NCO has engineered a secret Santa program to provide surprise gifts for soldiers. Another NCO has a baby Christmas tree set up in her room, with gifts sprawling in every direction from under its tiny limbs.
Programs are also in place to feed families who may need food for the Christmas season. And there is the Angel Tree Program, which gives gifts to needy children of military personnel. Deployed soldiers finding time to put together presents for others highlight one of the best aspects of the human condition: the spirit of giving.
After Sept. 11 of last year, the need to insulate and to protect one's own family from harm became even more defined in the midst of clear and present dangers. For that reason, those who are able and willing to go outside of themselves -- and outside of their own families -- to extend help and kindness to others, hold a special place of honor in my heart. Selflessness is an awesome thing, and it is the real truth behind this season.
I choose to sponsor a child in the Angel tree program because when I was a child someone did the same for me. When I was a little girl, my father was a soldier. While we were stationed overseas, one of my brothers died.
My family was broken - emotionally, spiritually and financially. We had lost so much faith, and the burden of depression was so heavy upon us, that when Christmas rolled around we barely even noticed.
I remember, as clear as yesterday, waking up with the other kids Christmas morning and making our way to the front of the apartment, just in time to see my father and several of his buddies bringing in boxes of presents and food.
My brothers and sister and I ripped open our presents with wide eyes and yelping voices and, for that moment we forgot to be depressed. We forgot to be angry at whatever force had taken our brother and had turned our world upside down. For that moment we were kids again.
I remember seeing my mother cry. This had been a normal occurrence in our home for the past couple of months. But on that day her tears did not slide sullenly down her face. On that day they sank into the deep dark curves around the corners of her mouth and formed watery grooves that looked just like a heart. My mother was smiling!
I overheard my father telling my mother that they had set up a program at the company and that fellow soldiers and their families had donated toys and food for families like ours.
It was on that day that I learned two things. The first of which was that there was no fat, bearded, jolly man named Santa Claus. I wasn't too startled by this realization because I was 9 years old, and the whole "Santa theory" was beginning to have too many holes in it to be plausible.
But I also learned one of the most important lessons of my life: in this world there exists something even better than Santa. There exists the spirit of giving that can make a downtrodden child smile and a grieving mother cry out of joy and appreciation.
To know that total strangers who wore uniforms every day just like my daddy could give so much of themselves and not even think to ask for anything in return was a lesson which stayed with me long after the toys had broken. It remains with me today.
(Editor's note: Spc. Jameka Roberts is a reserve-component unit supply specialist assigned to the 9th Theater Support Command, based at Fort Belvoir, Va. She is spending this holiday season deployed in Okinawa, Japan, in support of Operation Enduring Freedom.)