A Most Unlikely Christmas Gift
For Christmas 2020, I had sent gifts to my grown daughter and family five states west but, like so many during the first Christmas of the pandemic, I would be alone on the holiday.
On Christmas Eve, I sat in my living room with tangible memories hanging from my seven-foot artificial tree. I saw the red stocking my grandmother crocheted in her nineties. The tiny pink cradle my father made in his basement workshop the year my daughter was born dangled at the end of a long branch. Boughs held wrinkled paper snowflakes and crooked craft-stick stars made with glitter and laughter on kitchen tables. Near the top perched a velvet heart bearing the word love in capital letters.
My tree was full, but I felt empty. Ten months of pandemic restrictions had left me isolated and worried. Several friends had passed on. I couldn’t do what I wanted—travel to be with my family. My faith helped me remember that things would get better, but I was getting tired of waiting.
An Unfamiliar Route
I teach that when I change the way I look at things, they get better. When I’m feeling low, I can use my tools: meditation, prayer, a gratitude list, affirmations, and inspirational reading. I turned to that day’s Daily Word® message, which read in part “when my plans go awry, I can demonstrate the faith to follow an unfamiliar route, the peace to trust the Divine within me, and the love to know I am never alone.”
The words follow an unfamiliar route brought to mind a Christmas Eve 20 years earlier in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I had picked up my daughter from her apartment for the 10-mile drive to my parents’ home.
One of our favorite Christmas traditions was to meander through neighborhoods along the route so we could ooh and aah at the decorated holiday lawns, big-balloon Santas, reindeer, and strings of lights outlining roofs. “Those folks must really love Christmas!” we’d say, laughing joyfully at yards stuffed with decorations. But we also appreciated the simple beauty of a single candle in a window.
After a few blocks, she started directing me away from our usual sparkling route. “Turn here.” “Go left there.” I didn’t understand, but I followed her directions.
Soon we were driving into a complex of mostly darkened buildings—the sprawling Milwaukee County General Hospital. Not a twinkle in sight. “Why are we here?” I asked. My question went unanswered as she continued to direct us toward a building in the back with rows of dimly lit windows.
Not all Christmas gifts come wrapped and topped with a bow. Some come in the guise of our more unpleasant challenges. And sometimes the greatest gift we can receive is realizing the gifts we have to give.
A Good Spot to Pray for Others
“Park here,” she said. And with that, it began to snow. Big, wet snowflakes quickly patterned the windshield and two small trees nearby. The dark night sparkled with snow. “You like to pray for others,” she told me. “Here’s a good spot.”
Standing in the deserted back lot, boots in crunchy snow, mittened hands outstretched toward the wall of windows, we sent blessings to patients and their families, medical staff, hospital workers, and volunteers. No one seemed to notice us. No cars drove by. As I stood there in the cold night air, I felt deeply connected to everyone inside.
Now coming out of meditation on my lonely Christmas Eve, I wondered whether anyone behind those windows so long ago had felt the love and blessings. Did even one patient breathe a bit easier? Did someone working that night feel more appreciated? I couldn’t know. But I knew how I felt. My loneliness shifted and I was uplifted remembering the power of that night.
I knew what would uplift me again. I put on a red sparkly sweater and a Christmas hat and set out for the two hospitals in Athens, Georgia, where I now live. At each one I parked, stepped outside the car, and stood a while, sending blessings to all those enduring the pandemic in the hospital.
What prayer might work for the diversity of faiths inside? I spoke the “Prayer for Protection” into the night air. “The light of God surrounds you; the love of God enfolds you …” Could anyone in that building sense a person was outside praying for them? I hoped someone was now feeling a little less alone. In my giving, I no longer felt as sad and lonely. Sharing the love of God within reminded me I’m never alone.
A Powerful and Healing Practice
This practice was so powerful and healing for me, it’s now a regular part of my life. When driving to the beach or the mountains, I take time to notice the other cars, the houses I pass, the people I see, and I send them a silent blessing. It’s not a prayer for their crops to grow or their circumstances to improve, or for any specific thing. Instead, I pray for well-being, peace, joy, and love. And while I’m not able to visit a hospital every Christmas Eve, I continue to stop at one whenever I can and pray.
Not all Christmas gifts come wrapped and topped with a bow. Some come in the guise of our more unpleasant challenges. And sometimes the greatest gift we can receive is realizing the gifts we have to give.