Reflections From A Covid Christmas
A few days ago, our family was supposed leave home and fly across the States to be with family for Christmas. We were headed to a cabin in Colorado to be in a winter wonderland with a hot tub.
But instead, I was in urgent care. With a 102 fever. Chills. Congestion. And Covid. And I wasn’t the only one. I gifted the whole family with it too. Definitely would rather just have coal in my stocking.
I was disappointed. A bit angry. Flustered at this change in expectation.
But honestly, once I processed the news, it’s not like it was death sentence (…and for many people, Covid is.). Just a change in plans. Maybe an opportunity for something our family needed without knowing it. So also grateful. For medicine and first world care. For slowing down. For being present with my husband and two boys. I actually just recently had a peer die from the flu. She was a mom and wife like me. A mother of two boys like me. And about the same age as me. It was unexpected and tragic. And so final. Instead of moping around about being sick, I actually was reminded that everyday is a gift and could be the last. That peer had no idea the week before she died that it was the last week of her life. The last conversation she would have with her friends or the last birthday party she would attend or the last hug she would give her boys. Surviving Covid made me feel grateful. And lucky. Why some people survive and others don’t, I don’t know. So far, I’m still here.
The other part of the equation was intentionality. Not going to Colorado and seeing family actually helped me to “make the best of the situation” better than I probably would had if we’d made the big trip. Being sick and wanting to make sure our family had special moments and worshipped King Jesus rather than getting wrapped up in the commercialism hype was fuel to my fire. If we’d had the big trip and seen the extended family, the “specialness” would have already been planned out for us. I wouldn’t have had to search for it or create opportunities. Instead we played games and made Christmas cookies. After two days straight of being sick in bed and afraid of spreading my virus, I had the strength to come downstairs and watch The Polar Express snuggled up with my children (because by that time, they had it too so proximity didn’t matter). We got to have fun conversations about how faith in God is a lot like being about to “hear the bell” in the movie. When we’re not looking for God in our life, it’s harder to see Him. Who knew that having those conversations and cuddling up in front of the TV, such ordinary events, would be so special to me? Somehow, we found a bit of specialness in the ordinary, and for me, it was enough because that’s what Christmas is all about. The reason for Christmas is to celebrate the birth of Jesus. Instead of coming with pomp and fanfare, God came down to earth in the form of a humble baby in a stinky barn. He showed us how to live and then ultimately, died for our wrongdoings no matter how big or small so that we could be reunited with Him for eternity. It’s a pretty ordinary start, but it’s an extremely special beginning to an overall redemptive plan that God has for all humankind. So we did our best to rest in that truth—that God has a plan for redemption, and that hurt and pain will one day no longer exist for those who accept Christ’s gift for their lives. . . .in between the coughing and sneezing and chaos that two small kids can bring to one’s life.
Artist unknown