Homebodies - Solitudinous soliloquy...Alone but not lonely

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Published on Saturday, December 24, 2016

Rita Friesen

The Neepawa Banner

I didn’t think so at the time; but looking back, Christmas 2005 was probably the best Christmas of my life. It didn’t start out that way. One week earlier, Kathryn suffered the stroke that nearly took her life. All family Christmas celebrations were put on indefinite hold as we maintained a vigil at Winnipeg’s Health Science Centre. We sat, we watched, we talked and prayed together. We had only one request—we wanted Kathryn to live.

I went into Winnipeg on Christmas morning, paid her a short visit and then joined the family for a quiet Christmas dinner. After dinner, I returned to the hospital and checked in with the ICU’s charge nurse, asking if I could go and sit with Kathryn for a while.

“Sure,” she said. “We are unusually quiet here. But if we get busy, you will have to leave.”

I went in, sat next to Kathryn’s bed and held her hand. She was asleep and remained that way for most of the next hour. Just as I was about to leave, she woke up, looked at me, smiled and squeezed my hand. That was all she could do. But that one act said more to me than a hundred expensive presents could have said. It was her way of saying: “Merry Christmas. I love you.”

Previous Christmases in our family had been quite predictable—lots of decorations, lots of gifts to be opened and a meal that took two or three days to consume completely. But in 2005, we celebrated the two greatest gifts anyone could receive—the gift of life and the gift of family.

In recalling this experience, I thought of how similar it was to the experience Jesus had on the night he was born. There were no decorated trees, no beautifully wrapped presents, no Christmas dinner—just two parents gazing adoringly on a newly born baby that was fast asleep. The smiles on the faces of Mary and Joseph said it all. They were celebrating the gift of life and the gift of family.

In our day, the importance of these gifts is often minimized. Marriages and domestic partnerships dissolve at alarming rates. Over time, everyone adjusts to the new reality of life. Former partners enter new relationships. Children move to different communities and, for the most part, life goes on. But when special days occur—birthdays, anniversaries or holidays—we wish that we could have those we love close by, even if it would only be for a day or two.

Over the past few years I have spoken with several people who have experienced the death of a spouse, a separation, a divorce or who have grown distant from one or more of their children. I wish I could give you some magic words that would heal your hurts and restore those broken relationships. But I can’t. All I can offer you is a prayer to offer and a project to work on.

The project is this. Don’t let your current relationships suffer because of the ones you wish you could repair. God has given you a second chance. Use it wisely—or you will lose it too.

The prayer is equally easy to offer. Just tell God that you are ready to reconcile with children, siblings or other family from whom you have grown apart. Let God answer your prayer in his time and in his way. God can make it happen and give you the added joy of celebrating with them the gift of life and the gift of family.