As my siblings and I grow older, we often find ourselves filled with wonder and amazement as we think about how our parents managed to deal with all the challenges they faced in raising a family of nine children. There was neither a playbook for parenting, nor a whole lot of preparation. At age 18, Dad enlisted in the Navy after Pearl Harbor. He served as a signalman on a ship in the Pacific during World War II, which saw action in hot spots like Iwo Jima. During the war, Mom took an office job out of high school at a local meat packing plant. They met on July 26, 1942, the feast of St. Ann, when Dad was home on leave. Dad’s sisters connived to get him to the closing of St. Ann’s novena, knowing my mother would be there. A lot of matchmaking was done that summer. Mom liked to tell us that as girls prayed the novena prayers, they would whisper, “Ann, Ann, find me a man.” That meeting was all it took, as they kept in regular contact by letters and recordings throughout the course of the war. After Dad returned safely in the fall of 1945, he and Mom were married the next February, at ages 22 and 21, respectively. The following December, my oldest brother was born, and 11 months later my second oldest brother came into the world. Instant family. Over the next 13 years, seven others, including myself, would be added. My dad was a letter carrier and worked many second jobs to support us. Mom had a full-time job at home, as one could imagine. As my sister recently noted, “just think of all that laundry, the meals, the grocery shopping,” and, I added, “the refereeing of the squabbles.” Neither of my parents had a post-high school education, no parenting classes or therapists to assist them. It was the earn-while-you-learn program. They seemed to figure out that parenting was not an exact science, as each child was different. Maybe that explains why we often heard mom say, “You have to go with the flow.” I’d like to think that our reminiscing about days gone by, which seems to come naturally at this time of the year, has to be more than an exercise in nostalgia, a sentimentality that makes us miss the good old days. Rather, it should provoke in us a deep appreciation for how family members and countless others, many of whom we have never met, have sacrificed for us and contributed to our lives. I think of parents, children, teachers, coaches, religious women and men, pastors, health care professionals and those who served to secure our safety and freedom. Let us never take them for granted. But such musings should also fill us with a sense of wonder and awe that God has sent these good people into our lives. Someone once suggested that in heaven God will introduce us to all those people, not only those during our own lifetimes, but over the ages, who have had a part in shaping our lives. So maybe this Christmas, let’s give ourselves a touch of heaven. Let’s call to mind the many people who have made a difference in our lives and give thanks to God for sending them our way.