My Christmas of 1970 was really rough.
My husband was serving his 2nd tour of Vietnam, and I was back home
in Utah with a 1 ½ year old and a 3-year-old. I was expecting my third child in
February, and I was big and uncomfortable. My children seemed to be sick all
the time, and I felt sorry for myself.
I lived in an
upstairs apartment and my children were hyperactive. I constantly had to remind
them not too be so loud that the downstairs’ neighbors would complain.
One friend Shirleen, lived
not too far from me with three boys similar in age to mine, only she seemed to
have a lot of extended family in the area to do Christmas-y things with.
At times I would think, “I should
call Shirleen and we can take our children to see Santa (or any activity),” but
I would stop myself. “She has lots of family and friends to do things with; I’m
sure she wouldn’t be available to go with me.”
On Christmas Eve, my daughter
became very ill. I took her to the doctors, they took an X-ray and said it was
just a cough. I took her home and busied myself doing Christmasy things.
Then I received a callback from the
doctor; she had pneumonia and I must take her back to get treatment. So, I
ended up in the emergency room with my children. There, to my surprise, I met
my friend, Shirleen, with her three children, who were all very sick. Shirleen
saw me and began to cry.
“I felt so alone,” she sobbed. “I
felt like my children were the only one who were sick on Christmas Eve!”
We laughed and compared notes;
neither of us had much family interaction, because everyone was so busy with
their own life. She was as lonely and discouraged as I was.
“There’s
a destiny that makes us brothers
“None
goes his way alone.
“All
that we send into the lives of others
“Will
come back into our home.”
Edwin
Markham
