Some Days Just Don't Go According to Plan

Today is Christmas Adam. (Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, Adam came before Eve, therefore today is Christmas Adam. This tidbit brought to you by our ward’s Teachers’ Quorum.) Kev has been running a fever for the past three days and he is finally on the downhill side of whatever he has. Now Malia is running a fever. Matthew woke up sick this morning as well, throwing up and running a fever. Poor kid. He really, really, really wants to not be sick on Christmas. I don’t blame him. Being sick is never fun, but being sick on Christmas is absolutely miserable.

I was sick on Christmas the year I was in first grade. I woke up sick on the very first day of Christmas vacation. I remember being sick a lot when I was a kid and spending a lot of time lying on the couch with a barf bowl. On this particular occasion I was so sick that I didn’t even make it to the couch. For a number of days I was in my bed feeling like death. As Christmas approached, Jon and Patti (my older brother and sister) would come in and encourage me to eat a little soup or drink some 7-Up so I could get better in time for Christmas. But I had no appetite and couldn’t keep anything down even if I did manage to eat it.

And so it went until I awoke on Christmas Day still just as sick. I did make it to the couch, but I just laid there not even caring that Christmas was happening all around me. My siblings tried to get me excited about the gifts that were for me, but I was still feeling so awful that I honestly could not work up any enthusiasm. As the day began to wane and I was feeling no better, my Dad called our home teacher and the two of them gave me a blessing. Within a few hours I was nearly completely recovered. As night fell and my siblings all went to bed, it was quiet and peaceful (something that rarely happens in a home with seven children) and I finally had my own little Christmas. I clearly remember finally being excited about the dolls and doll house furniture I received.

This particular experience is one that has always stuck in my mind for a couple of reasons. For starters, it was the first time I ever remember knowing without a doubt that there really is power in the priesthood. In all the subsequent years, I have never faltered in that knowledge. That’s how powerful a lesson it was for me. Second, it taught me that in spite of all the grief that siblings may give each other (and believe me, with seven of us there was grief a plenty), there is love there. The kindness and compassion my two older siblings showed to me is one of the only clear memories I have of those sick days. This is a particularly valuable reminder for me now as I watch my own children bicker and fight and wonder if they are ever going to get along. I believe it will come, with time and age and understanding because in spite of it all, there is love there.

I know it doesn’t help Matthew at all, but I know how rough it is to be sick on Christmas. While he still has a full day until our first holiday gathering, I have a feeling that we may just be hunkering down at home for Christmas this year. Nathan was pretty disappointed when we had that conversation a bit earlier today, but when I explained that it is more important to be together on Christmas that it is to attend all the fun parties, I think he understood. Because in spite of all the drama that happens between Nathan and Matthew, there is love there.

So to wrap things up, we may not currently be merry and bright but we are still hoping to have some holiday cheer. If you show up at our door we will welcome you, just enter at your own risk. You may go home with the plague.