Holiday Expectations

There is a photo of me on Christmas Eve when I was five years old. I am wearing my Christmas pajamas, and the smile on my face suggests that I am eagerly anticipating Santa’s arrival. Anticipation is the real magic of the holidays when each day is like an unwrapped present and sparkling lights can turn any front yard into a winter wonderland. Holiday memories are collected over the years and stored away, only to be resurrected in future years with the expectations that they will be the same. I love to decorate, bake, shop, and entertain during the festive holiday season, with the expectation that all will be merry and bright for everyone. The first Christmas that veered from my happy holiday snow globe occurred before the Christmas of 1982.

My husband and I and were sailing into or second holiday season together when the grant project that I had been working on was not refunded for a third year and I became unemployed. Just when I thought that nothing could get worse than to lose your job before the holidays, it did. My husband was struck down by a serious reaction to a medication that was prescribed for him. It began with neurological pain that would lead to temporary paralysis in his body, particularly in his hands and feet. He was able to walk into the hospital on the first of December but was basically paralyzed the next day.

While doctors ran every available diagnostic tool at there disposal, I was given a harsh reality check. My husband was a veterinarian with a private practice, so if he wasn’t working and I wasn’t working then there was a big problem. I had to quickly take over management of the practice and assemble his staff to reach out to his clients. As word spread of his illness, local veterinarians graciously stepped in to help until he could return to the practice.

We spent the month of December in the hospital, which is not the merriest place to be during the holidays. I remember stepping outside on Christmas Eve, looking at the stars and praying for a miracle. The next day, my husband’s health began to improve and over time he was able to recover. Maybe we are allowed to have one miracle in our lifetime, and this was mine. Little did I know that we would receive another miracle the next Christmas when our son was born in the same hospital.

As I look back at the picture of that five-year old girl with the sparkle of anticipation in her eyes on Christmas Eve, I want her to know that magic is alive, and miracles do exist. I want her to know that the holiday season is not about elaborate decorations, parties, presents or photos on social media sites. There may be hard times ahead that will steal that sparkle from her eyes, only to have it returned many times over in the years that follow. But most of all, I want her to slow down and enjoy the simple magic of a moonflower moment and all the miracles that the holiday season may bring.