I love Christmas. I really do. I sing carols, dance and have just about enough Christmas outfits to last the entire month of December. I go overboard with Christmas. As much as I hate the cold, it is my favorite time of year.
I love the lights, music, sounds, laughter and presents (yes, I’m honest, I like presents). I love Santa and talking to the children about Santa and elves and reindeer; you name it, if it is Christmas related I love it.
In fact, I understand a co-worker took a Snapchat video of me singing and bobbing my head while working and listening to Christmas music in my headphones. Being it was on Snapchat the video has disappeared, but I heard it was hilarious. Oh well, tis the season.
This was not always the case. In fact I once hated Christmas and never wanted to celebrate it again.
On Sept. 30, 1992, my beautiful third child, Joshua, was born. He was a perfect baby, my heart was full.
Two weeks later my precious baby boy turned into a screaming nightmare. Day and night he would cry nonstop. He was only calm when I was holding him in my grandmother’s rocking chair. My first thoughts, of course, were he was a colicky or a spoiled baby, but trip after trip to the pediatrician, instincts were telling this was not the case.
At six weeks I received word his PKU test came back with two amino acid levels measuring off the chart. In other words my son had a serious liver problem. The next day we were sitting in the office of Dr. Gene Rosenbaum, chief of genetics at Children’s Hospital in Washington, D.C., discussing what needed to be done.
Next few weeks were weekly tests monitoring his levels and changing his diet, but a week before Christmas I didn’t know then but I recognize it now his body was rejecting food. We were admitted as an inpatient at the hospital.
Christmas Eve I stood outside my church sobbing because I had two children at home and one in the hospital. I said next year all my children will be home together with as much determination as my broken heart could handle.
Sadly that was not the case. Sitting in a room in the ICU unit on Jan. 5, 1993, I held my son as he took his last breath. Unfortunately his liver was too damaged, and we lost the fight. Walking into my home that evening so devastated and seeing the Christmas tree there with presents for a little boy who would never get to open them.
Yes, I hated Christmas.
The next year comes around, and I tried to be strong for my other children but my heart wasn’t in it and to make it worse I was dealing with the fact my father had terminal cancer and I knew it would be his last Christmas with us. No, Christmas wasn’t fun anymore.
My father, whom I was living with as I was going through a divorce, knew me too well. He knew how heavy my heart was and how much I was hurting. He made it a point to make it the best Christmas ever. Despite how he felt he was determined that Christmas was going to be great. He went shopping by himself, which had me worried sick when he was gone for hours, but he said he had a great time and he bought my Christmas gifts. Nothing fancy, a sewing machine and a heavy coat, but the fact he did it meant so much to me.
I lost him the following summer.
So how did this woman go from hating Christmas to being over-the-top with it? I’m glad you asked.
During this time the Lord was working on me. I started to realize something. I could look at Christmas and see it as a reminder of when my son died or I could look at it and see what it truly was. A precious gift coming from God that through this gift, I know the day will come when I will one day see my beloved Joshua again, and this time there would be no bad liver or anything to separate this momma with her son again.
Once I truly realized this and just how wonderful and precious the gift of Jesus is, that was a game changer. Suddenly I wanted to go all out with Christmas. It became my favorite time of year because it was the time of the year that I am most reminded of my loved ones, grandparents, parents and my son, I will see again and all of us will be healthy and happy.
The inside of my house is all decked out for Christmas with Santas, reindeers and mostly more than 10 different nativities, some from other parts of the world. Seeing my home and me you can tell I’m all about some Christmas.
I shared my heart to say this. Have a very wonderful Christmas. Laugh and love, eat too much. Take lots of pictures and get in the pictures, too. Make lots of delightful memories with friends and family.
Remember there is a very special promise waiting for us because of the special gift of Christmas. And for that very reason we should go all out and love it.
Susan Amundson is managing editor of The Columbian-Progress. She may be reached at (601) 736-2611 or samundson@columbianprogress.com.
