A Different Kind of Christmas

It can feel mechanical to face a holiday when your world has changed.  Our hearts and minds were still adjusting to his diagnosis.  I had put up a tree but not decorated it.  I had made cookie dough but not actually baked a cookie.  I had bought some presents but not wrapped anything.  So many familiar things, and yet everything different.

Like most families we have lots of traditions at Christmastime.  3 days after we got the diagnosis our oldest son and his beautiful wife arrived from Arizona for a week's visit.  Our other son, his lovely wife and our 2 grandsons live in our town.  That meant that we could all be together for this holiday, come what may.

Tony is known for his Italian Feast of Seven Fishes on Christmas Eve.  But we told everyone that he was probably not up for any cooking of that sort this year, even though all the fish had already been bought and frozen.  Nobody cared, everyone just wanted to hang out together.  I kept saying that it might be "fish sticks and tater tots" and all agreed!  Just the thought of family together was comforting.

Our oncologist arranged quick scheduling of Tony's port insertion 2 days before Christmas.  And his first chemo treatment was set for the day after Christmas, no time was wasted.  We felt the urgency.  The first procedure was done skillfully by the hospital professionals.  Tony recovered easily.

Since I had no time to bake, my sweet daughters-in-law took over, baked and decorated the cookies for our Christmas. They wrapped the presents with a style I don't possess.  The kids even decorated the tree!  There's something comforting about admitting when we need help.

To our shock and surprise Tony had an unexpected surge of energy those few days before Christmas and decided to make the feast!  I was wary of him taking on such labor intensive cooking and kept trying to intercept him and help.  I was mildly successful but mostly did my usual sous-chef clean-up duties.  He spent a whole day cleaning clams and making his fabulous stuffing for his baked clams.  These gems are loaded with clams, shrimp, scallops, orange roughy, seasonings and then baked to perfection for our first course with fried calamari.

He also prepped his cold salad of monk fish and jumbo lump crab meat, second course.  And he cut up his orange roughy filets to be ready for the fryer.  Tony served these golden beauties with broiled shrimp and scallops in wine and butter, and thin linguine aglia e olio (garlic and oil), third course.

If you peeked in our window that night, you would never have known that even though some things were the same, everything felt different this Christmas Eve.  We didn't arrange fancy plates, just put all the food on the island while everyone helped themselves.  Our friends joined us and we talked and laughed and prayed, as always.  We gathered around the piano and did our best.  It was good therapy.

Christmas morning we opened presents and laughed with each other, savoring sweet moments with the babies, just glad to be together.  Our kids surprised Tony with a beautiful video montage and a recording of their thankfulness for their father who is showing them how to suffer in a godly way.  They are precious to us. Tony and I agree that raising children was the "best thing we ever did." It was such a gift to have our children all around us during that first week of our new life.

Similar to how cooking liquid gets reduced in a pan, non-essentials are evaporating from our lives.  I feel like we are in a refining process of losing everything that doesn't matter, clinging tightly to what is important.  

I spend a lot of time awake in the middle of the night thanks to my hot flashes.  But now I have traded my frustration for a keen sense of opportunity to pray and draw near to God with no distractions during these times.  God has been so kind to give me wonderful pictures and analogies to encourage us along our way.  I think He still speaks through dreams and visions when He wants to.  We believe He is in control in this strange place.

Our pastor started a series called "Wilderness" to start the new year.  I told him that it was like he was listening in to our private conversations and then teaching!  We laughed about that and once again, it was so comforting to know that God was with us every step through our uncharted territory.  It will be a time of provision, not abundance.  It will be a time of focusing on what matters to God, leaning in to hear His voice, choosing to trust Him, and letting Him carry us along.

The day of Tony's first chemo treatment I had a distinct image in my mind of an invading army going forward to obliterate the enemy while he was sitting in that infusion chair.  I sat next to him with a quiet sense of joy that help was on the way, the fight was beginning!