One month ago today, we celebrated Christmas 2020. Those of us who didn't live through the dark and seemingly endless days of the Great Depression or World War 2 found great comfort in the promises accompanying the birth of our Messiah.
The promise of hope.
The promise of light in the darkness.
The promise of a Savior with healing in his wings.
"He is the one," we remembered, "who rules over wars and economic woes and pandemics. He is Emmanuel, who not only rules over us during challenging times, but also is with us throughout them."
One month ago, those truths buoyed our souls and carried us into the new year. Into 2021, with its promises of vaccines and improved treatments and the slow but certain end of COVID-19. And yet here we are,
still separated from loved ones in residential care settings,
still losing people we care about to the coronavirus,
still attending virtual school,
still wearing masks,
still worshipping online,
still storing up hugs to share.
Photo credit: Eugene Zhyvchik on Unsplash.com.
Those unaccustomed to long struggles or the sacrifices that accompany caring for someone with disabilities or special needs are reeling, as the tentacles of the 2020 pandemic reach deeper into 2021 each day. They have no personal experience with self-denial, restricted movement, or limited choices. They have never needed to practice the disciplines of waiting long for God to speak, of finding good in hard places, or the cherishing of small things that reveal God's grace. I see their hopelessness and fear, and I am grateful for the life given to me.
For my mother who was a child in the Great Depression, and tells stories of receiving only a stick of gum for Christmas.
For being able to call and FaceTime with her in the residential care center for the past 10 months.
For a father who lost function daily for 38 years after being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.
For training, as a little kid, to love my dad by emptying his urinal and cutting his meat.
For 4 years of self-denial and sacrifice as the parent of my own medically-fragile baby, toddler, and child.
For discovering that doctors could fix some of our baby's problems, but not all of them.
For realizing that the fixing of one problem could cause another.
For accepting the reality of our child's condition and rejoicing in the life he now has.
For a journey that has shown me that my life doesn't have to be perfect to be good.
These are the truths I celebrated on Christmas 2020, one short month ago today. These are the truths you, as a caregiver, comprehend in ways those unaccustomed to life as anything less than perfect can't comprehend. These are the truths that can sustain us whether the pandemic continues for two more weeks or months or seasons or years. And the one truth that sustains us above all others is Jesus.
Emmanuel.
God with us.
God with you as a caregiver.
God with your beloved child.
God with us during this pandemic.
God with us always.
God with us.
Jolene Philo is the author of the Different Dream series for parents of kids with special needs. She speaks at parenting and special needs conferences around the country. She's also the creator and host of the Different Dream website. Sharing Love Abundantly With Special Needs Families: The 5 Love Languages® for Parents Raising Children with Disabilities, which she co-authored with Dr. Gary Chapman, was released in August of 2019 and is available at local bookstores, their bookstore website, and at Amazon.
