A thrill of hope

I think I about have the weariness nailed.  It's Sunday morning and instead of singing in the choir as part of the Christmas program today, I am sitting in a hospital room.

Emma has had a hard time.  Her pancreatitis really threw her for a loop.  There was a dramatic scene of confrontation with the surgeon which I will have to relate when I have more energy.  My frustration level was at a high peak on top of my worry and exhaustion.  I did the sensible thing and called Stella.  She's hands down my favorite doctor.  She loves us for one thing.  For another thing, she explains medicine to me in English.  For another thing, she exudes the kind of confidence a frightened mother can get behind.

She gave me the right questions to ask and we've checked in with each other a few times and she's given me a lot of encouragement.

We met with the surgeon this morning (it wasn't confrontational at all) and if Emma can tolerate solid food today, we can go home!

This morning I've been thinking about Christmas.

Yesterday I was startled when I saw the date because I had kind of forgotten about Christmas.  Also, last night when I got in my car and the radio was playing Christmas music, I turned it off because it felt jarring.

I had visions of this time being warm and cozy with candles lit and good foods baking and all of us leisurely enjoying the season.

Every night when I have gone home to sleep, our house feels cold and dark and not all that cheery.

It's eye opening.  Because for plenty of people, Christmas isn't all that cheery.

We have not been grocery shopping and probably have some sour milk and limp vegetables in the fridge but I'm not sure.  Besides a ham I bought at Costco, I don't even have any of the stuff to make all our traditional Christmas food.  Emma is on a really restricted diet for a week or so anyway.  For 46 years I've been in this bubble of Christmas = cheer and now I feel like a Who down in Whoville after the Grinch came.

And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.

Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before!

"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store." 

"Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!"

I've realized Christmas is the kindness of nurses we interact with.  Christmas is the loving texts and phone calls and prayers on our behalf.  Christmas is the sweet gifts and notes I got from my students last Friday (one made me cry a lot).

Christmas is remembering that even though things are different and decidedly less festive, Christ came for us.  He came for our discouragement and disappointments and mistakes and shortcomings.  The very first Christmas wasn't beribboned with Bing Crosby crooning in the background.  It's OK to have a pared down Christmas.

What I want for Christmas is to be home with my people and to have Emma cracking wise and making clever plays on words.  Maybe even singing.

That's all I need.

(I mean, I'll still open my gifts...)