We had been in and out of hospitals for 6 months, and Adrian had been through countless exams and several surgeries. We were used to the long days and the even longer nights at the hospital. It was like being trapped in a bubble; the world outside hardly existed. We had finally regained some kind of rhythm to our days, and the doctors even tried to take Adrian’s sleeping routines into consideration when planning exams and surgeries. All in all, life at the hospital had become bearable.
It was a late December night, and we had spent yet another day watching over our son, trying to make him as comfortable as possible.
The nurse beamed as she sat down next to us. “I have some wonderful news,” she said, “you get to go home for Christmas!”
Right. Those were great news, weren’t they? Imagine going home for Christmas…
“You can probably leave tomorrow,” she continued, “I’ll prepare the medication that you need to give him at home during the holidays. Isn’t it fantastic?”
Yes. Absolutely fantastic. It had to be.
The nurse hurried down the hallway, happy to be the bearer of such wonderful news. Thomas and I looked at each other. We didn’t know what to say. All we think of was that we had hardly been home for 6 months. Our old wooden house was cold and dusty. We didn’t have any of the things needed to take care of Adrian’s medical needs at home, and it was too late to order supplies before Christmas. We didn’t have any food at home, and Christmas was due in a couple of days.
We had hardly given the holidays another thought. We had just focused on keeping Adrian alive and comfortable. We had not bought any gifts. All the Christmas decorations were neatly stacked somewhere, although none of us could remember where. The many sleepless nights watching over Adrian clouded our minds, making it hard to organize any train of thought. All in all, we felt somewhat overwhelmed by the idea of going home for Christmas.
“I’ll better take off, then.” Thomas said as he remained still, resting his face in his hands for a few seconds. As he got up he grabbed the coffee mug, bracing himself for yet another all-nighter, this time to prepare for Christmas. We had decided to get Adrian a kitchen cabinet to play with. He couldn’t eat, but he absolutely loved playing with pretend food made of plastic. We had hoped that it would encourage him when he got better.
The kitchen cabinet stored in the attic remained to be assembled and painted. Thomas downed the coffee and left, leaving me to care for Adrian during the night. We were both exhausted after having spent a year in a continuous state of emergency, but we were determined to make this a Christmas to remember for Adrian.
I started packing our clothes in the dark of the hospital room, moving quietly to make sure I didn’t wake up Adrian. We would have to do everything at night, because Adrian needed our help during the daytime. After a while I sat down with a pen and paper, writing a list over everything we needed to do in the next 48 hours.
My mother graciously offered to pitch in and clean the house. Tears welled up as I thankfully accepted. One thing off the list. I spent the next morning at the mall picking of gifts while my weary-looking husband stayed with Adrian at the hospital. There was a lot of things to do for him there because we needed to take with us a lot of highly specialized medical equipment to be able to care for him at home. As the day unfolded, I kept crossing off the list. Only 50 more tasks to go.
Back then our three bonus kids had not moved in with us permanently yet, but they really wanted to spend the holidays with us. We were happy to have them come over. Even when Adrian was in and out of hospitals, we made sure to create room for them. At the time, it was their second home and we wanted to make sure that they always felt welcome. Which was why I insisted on decorating the house as usual, not settling for some halfway solution. I wanted to treat them, to honor them, and to lavish our love on them.
The kitchen cabinets were still drying and the house smelled of paint when we got home. It didn’t matter. We were home. Life was good. All our worries evaporated. Grace filled our home, and we welcomed a peace beyond all understanding.
The new Christmas ornament that adorned our tree that year was a heart with a star in it. The Morning Star filled our hearts, guiding us, providing for us, sheltering us in the stormy first year of serious, unidentified illness. It was the first time we celebrated God’s goodness with a Christmas ornament, and it marked a new course for us – a path of thankfulness, of acknowledging God’s presence and his faithfulness to us. We gave thanks for who he is, regardless of our circumstances.
Adrian loved his kitchen cabinets. Most of our meals were made right there, although none of us could eat any of the plastic food he served us. It seemed only fair, given that the chef himself was unable to eat any food at all. His eyes sparkled as he watched us ‘drink’ the imaginary coffee. He had already learned that his parents were no good without coffee and he was all too happy to provide our vice of choice.