I have been thinking this so-called holiday season of the children of Gaza. How do they look upon the world who seems so to have forgotten what makes a child take joy in life, even a child of Gaza. The children of Gaza stumbling over the stones of homes that offer no shelter, not from nations casting lead or from history. They look out at us, framed by loss, by roads that go no where, they stand in their own ruins, too young to have known freedom of movement, to have run down roads that lead to larger freedoms in their own land. Like other children who posed too difficult a question to their times, they seem to fade from view even as they look at us. The children of Gaza.