“All I want for Christmas is…” the song echoed down the hospital corridor as I made my way back to my neutropenic boy’s room. My mind finished automatically, “…to be home.” I wanted to be home, I wanted to be with my whole family, I wanted to not be watching temperatures and blood counts.
Truthfully, this was the day after Christmas. We had been home for Christmas, and the blessings we felt as we gathered around our tree had me fighting back tears most of the day. December 26, however, brought with it a fever with an unknown source and we were back in the children’s ward, listening to Christmas carols and still smelling the turkey.
I walked into Andrew’s room and saw his brightly flushed cheeks and over-bright eyes and I knew the fever hadn’t abated. “Are the girls coming?” he asked.
“No. It’s snowing, Andrew. They can’t get over the pass very safely. Daddy says they’ll try tomorrow.”
“Ok” His eyes closed but his hands still twitched restlessly. I settled onto my cot. “Mommy,” his eyes were on me, “I loved Christmas!”
“Me too, buddy.”
As my four-year-old drifted off to the sleep he needed so badly I remembered the visit from a local Santa, who’d known Andrew couldn’t go out. I thought about my friends who were all happy to remove shoes, to use Germ-X, to wear a face-mask while they visited. I pictured the video made by my friend so my boy wouldn’t miss his Bible class. I recalled the gas gift cards, the books and the music CDs we’d received. I smiled as I heard again the students who’d come caroling at our door, knowing Andrew was missing the annual Christmas party at the school.
I had been scared, when approaching the Christmas season with a neutropenic boy. I wondered how we’d make it special and keep our traditions with him being so sick. I prayed daily we could actually celebrate Christmas at home, together.
I’d forgotten that God is found in the small things.
He’s found in the gifts and thoughtfulness of friends and family. God gave us presents we’d never thought of, allowing us to see the caring of the world around us in ways we never would have otherwise. God opened our eyes to the beauty of time together over anything and everything else.
Not every caregiving story provides that kind of Christmas. As I write I think of the many caregivers I know and love who no longer have a person to take care of: they would give anything to be called a caregiver again. They are facing a Christmas that feels empty.My prayer, this Christmas season, is that we remember that God is in the small things… Click To Tweet
My prayer, this Christmas season, is that we remember that God is in the small things: the things that you and I do to remind caregivers they are not alone. Those moments we spend sending an encouraging note. That extra copy of a picture we share with a caregiver to show them we remember, we care and we love.
Maybe sometimes God’s love comes through visits from Santa or maybe it’s in that bottle of Germ-X that caregivers know too much about – whatever form God’s love takes, let’s you and I be the ones to share it!Whatever form God’s love takes, let’s you and I be the ones to share it! #neutropenicchristmas… Click To Tweet
What’s your inspirational story? Link up below, and don’t forget the 1-2-3s of building community:
1. Link up your most inspirational post from the previous week.
2. Vist TWO other contributors (especially the person who linked up right before you) and leave an encouraging comment.
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Please link back to this week’s post or add the button to your post so that we can spread the inspirational cheer :).