Light has come into the world. John 3:19
Christmas had always been our favorite time of year in the Karas family home. But this year, my husband, Bruce, was recovering from lung surgery for a cancerous tumor.
The lack of Christmas cheer seemed to bother Bruce more than the pain of his surgery or the worry over his diagnosis. I made him eggnog, lit a fire and played his favorite carols. Our daughter, Lindsay, even donned a Santa hat and passed out candy canes. Nothing helped.
On the way to the surgeon’s office for a follow-up appointment, Bruce said, “I’m ruining Christmas for everyone.” I knew he was remembering all he used to do to make the holiday special.
“Don’t think that way, honey,” I said, squeezing his hand. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.”
In the waiting room, we listened as a mother read the Christmas story from the Bible to her sick child. How the Baby Jesus, God’s light, would soon come into the world. That’s what I miss most, my spirit cried. The lights. The Light of the World. It was both a prayer and a plea.
Coming home that evening, we’d never felt more weary. The darkness that shrouded our lives was hard enough; now we’d have to face our dark home. But as we pulled onto our block and our house came into view, the most amazing sight greeted us.
A candle glowed from every window. Lindsay’s gift. It’s time to celebrate, God whispered. I’m here, always here, in every dark place.
Your light never fails to find us, Lord. Thank you for your caregiving angels of light.
