Have unwrapped gifts.
✔️ Check.
Left several still proudly living in boxes and plastic bags.
Buy groceries, but do not cook them.
✔️ Check.
Thankful my morning sick, wiped out, pregnant daughter with three little boys brought food. Still not sure how she does it.
Have family over anyway.
✔️ Check.
With gifts half-wrapped, half-hidden, and a bit of disappointment in my lack of time management.
Ensure the house is a total disaster when everyone arrives.
✔️ Check.
Think holiday chaos chic. That makes it sound so much nicer than stuff everywhere.
Catch the flu.
✔️ Check.
Timing? Impeccable.
Add a terrible UTI.
✔️ Check.
Why not? Why would I ever consider just one illness? But I got a pretty new Stanley to drink my water. I’m fancy when hydrating now.
Include a painful, open wound.
✔️ Check.
Details unnecessary. Trauma sufficient.
Sprinkle in fever and chills.
✔️ Check.
Festive, really. At least my son’s family gave me a new photo blanket to cover up with as my teeth chattered.
Add diarrhea. Why not?
✔️ Check.
It is the gift that keeps on giving and gives no warning so it’s always a surprise! Whoo Hoo!
Spend most of Christmas day unable to leave the chair or even fully wake up.
✔️ Check.
But still hear laughter, conversations, and cousins playing together.
And it was beautiful background music as I dozed.
Now give the flu to your spouse.
✔️ Check.
Actually not to nitpick, he gave it to me. But we are down for the count together.
For extra chaos, give the flu to your elderly mom with Parkinson’s Disease.
✔️ Check.
Because caregiving for someone seriously ill while seriously ill yourself builds character. Or breaks you. Or both.
Watch your family step up and do everything.
✔️ Check.
Cook. Wrap. Caretake.
Feel sad yet overwhelmingly grateful at the same time. I have the best family. My sons, daughter, and in-law kiddos truly stepped up when I couldn’t.
Have your mom become unable to sit up or stand, confused, and incoherent.
✔️ Check.
This was hard.
Call your brother, desperate for help.
✔️ Check.
No pride left. Just need.
Have an ambulance take your mom to the hospital.
✔️ Check.
Admitted. Stabilized.
Be too sick to visit her, knowing she’s confused and likely wondering where you are.
✔️ Check.
This one doesn’t get a joke. Please pray for her.
Feel terrible but also thankful because you truly could not have cared for her.
✔️ Check.
I’m learning you can hold two different feelings.
Add her faithful aide to the flu list.
✔️ Check.
I’m so sorry. Truly. Not the best gift I’ve given.
Four days after Christmas still have unopened gifts.
✔️ Check.
But Christmas does not come with an expiration date.
Pray for a redo Christmas in a few days.
⬜ Not checked yet.
Hope pending.
Write a blog because your life is always CRAZY.
✔️ Check.
We all know this is how I process my life. And if we don’t find humor or joy in the hard, then it just becomes too hard to carry.
This wasn’t the Christmas I had planned or imagined for the last month. I didn’t host the way I wanted to, I didn’t give the way I hoped to, and I didn’t even fully participate the way I normally do. Most of the day I barely left the chair or fully woke up.
But from that chair, I heard my family laughing, talking, and eating together. I heard life happening without me having to manage it or hold it together. And that mattered more than I expected. I cherish the moments of my family being together under my roof. I treasure hearing my adult children and grandchildren enjoying one another. I hold these moments close to my heart as a Mom.
It also reminded me that Christmas was never meant to be about everything going right. The first Christmas was messy, unexpected, and exhausting. God didn’t wait for things to be calm or impressive before showing up. He came right into the middle of weakness, need, and chaos. Jesus never came for perfect, polished, or put together. (Take a moment to breathe a sigh of relief.) But He always shows up in the disorderly, mucky parts of people’s lives and makes them beautiful.
It’s why people didn’t recognize Jesus as Savior. God seems to like an upside-down Kingdom. He sent a baby, not a Warrior. He revealed His son to shepherds, not kings. His son was born in a stable, not a palace. In a manger, not a throne. His parents were poor, not wealthy. His birth arrived quietly, not to applause. I love that about Him.
This year, I didn’t have much to offer. But maybe that’s the point. That’s where God meets us. His beauty isn’t revealed in flawless moments, but in the imperfect ones where His glory truly can shine.
I still hope we get a redo Christmas in a few days that looks a little more like our traditional Christmas. I hope my mom continues to recover. I hope our bodies heal. But I’m holding onto the quiet truth that even this version of Christmas counted. And I found a lot of it to be beautiful.
Except maybe for the diarrhea. That’s the worst.
Just Differently Abled 