I've become accustomed to Christmas miracles, large and small, not that I expect or anticipate them, but I take them in stride.  Whether they appear as bits of humor, grace notes, or major events in a human life, they can amuse, lift the heart and inspire the human spirit.  

Here, together, are three anecdotes from a life, stories I hope will do all three--amuse, enlighten and inspire--as the last few days of Christmas descend. 

The Sign

One Christmas morning years ago, I awoke unusually early in the hours before dawn, and as I did, I poked my head out a window to see the night sky.

There above the horizon was a star, unusually large, Star-of-Bethlehemy large, although I knew it was no such thing, likely Venus lighting up the night sky, but it loomed, it dominated, and it was something to behold.

Like a child wanting to share Santa's arrival, or Amahl passionately pleading to his mother to see another night sky, I woke my husband.

"Come see, come see," I entreated.

Slippered and bathrobed, he followed me down the stairs and out the front door, into the driveway, intending to look into the eastern sky.

Instead, we both gazed north at the same moment, and as we did, a shooting star crossed our mutual gaze, blazing its tail across the curtain of dark.

"There's your Christmas present," I whispered. 

The Wonder

Another year, another Christmas, a Christmas Eve years earlier, our parish in Wisconsin had moved Christmas Eve masses to the local Grand Theater, a restored two-story opera house type facility that generally accommodated live performances of celebrity talent.  The stage was adorned with poinsettias, red and white, and off to the right was the three-quarter size Fontanini nativity of the Holy Family--Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus in a manger. 

After the masses, it was our job to get the poinsettias and the nativity over to the church so they would be there for masses on Christmas morning.  A local car dealer had loaned us a minivan to transport everything in the crisp snowy cold of a Wisconsin Christmas night.

In successive trips of a few blocks from the Grand Theater to the church, we realized that Mary and Joseph had made the journey, but the baby Jesus was not so fortunate and the doors to the church had been locked before the infant in his bed could find his place in the sanctuary. 

So baby Jesus came to our house for Christmas Eve.

Knowing that I would have to get up especially early to get the missing nativity piece down the hill and back to the church before anyone realized he was missing, I brought him in from the frozen garage and set him next to the fireplace in our livingroom, in full gaze of the tree, the cookies, the Christmas cactus, and the trappings of the holiday.  I swaddled the base with extra cloth from the tree skirt.

Earlier that night when taking the nativity pieces from the theater, we realized that someone had left a gold coin in baby Jesus' manger.  As the baby Jesus and the manger were two separate pieces, the coin disclosed itself as the baby figure was lifted from its bed.  I tucked it into my purse for safekeeping to put back the next day as the pieces were placed in the church. 

The next morning, I rose early as snow was freshly falling outside the window.  The town below sparkled like diamonds.  I knew the drive would be treacherous, so I took my time as I carefully lifted the baby from the manger to put in the back of the minivan.

There, in the manger, was the gold piece.

I was sure I had put it in my purse for safekeeping.  I looked, and the gold piece from the night before was still tucked inside.  Another one, identical to the first, was in its place.  If it had been there the night before, I hadn't seen it, and I wondered how it had escaped anyone's notice or stayed in place, since the two pieces were taken apart to leave the theater and put back together by my fireplace.

I gathered everything up and headed to the church, and as I assembled the Holy Family pieces in the rightful position for Christmas morning masses, I put the two gold pieces back in the manger.

I saw Father Steve as he entered the sanctuary and told him the story.  "We'd better hang onto this one," he belly laughed.  "It makes money."

A Christmas Miracle

Five years ago this Christmas Eve, my husband came home from the hospital after a several month hospitalization following Whipple surgery for pancreatic cancer, three months of which had been in the surgical ICU.  It was a homecoming we thought we'd never see.  It was also his birthday.

Here are some of my entries from the journal I kept at that time. 

CHRISTMAS COMES, WHETHER WE'RE READY OR NOT

Tuesday was the day this week that I had set aside to mail Christmas cards and packages. 

I was coming in a little later than usual to the hospital that morning when I got the call from Larry.

"They're sending me home tomorrow." He was crying.

He was going home Wednesday on a therapeutic leave of absence, a trial run if you will, to see how we'd do alone at home, with a tentative plan of releasing him permanently yesterday, on Christmas Eve.

Cards and packages got tossed aside. I shifted into high gear on another course, and scrambled to get everything ready for Larry to come home on Wednesday. I had to (to use a favorite expression of my late father's) "punt." I spent most of Tuesday at the hospital in preparation for this, and then late that night made a run to SuperTarget (the one true store) to lay in supplies.

An hour-and-a-half, and $300 plus of groceries later, I drove into our apartment building and asked the valets to help me unload. Bottles of water, various juices, oatmeal, yogurt, paper products, and the makings of meals. . .(I myself marvel that all this was $300, but it was about a dozen bags).

We had our winter store laid in.

The next day a limo picked Larry up just after noon, and drove Larry back to our apartment building. Sweetie had stayed home from the kennel that day in anticipation of Larry's arrival.

We took the elevator up to the tenth floor to pick up Sweetie, then all went together to our new apartment.

It was a happy homecoming.

Larry got the 50 cent tour of the new two-bedroom handicapped apartment, outfitted for his further recovery (new electric cart, walker, recliner, elevated toilets, and lots and lots of medical supplies). I had picked up his discharge medications the night before at Mayo Clinic pharmacy at St. Mary's, including insulin and syringes.

Larry's eyes fell on the new recliner, and then his body did.

Three hours later, he surfaced.

I didn't dare take my eyes off him most of the three hours.

I was in disbelief. We had him home.

*****

The next day, he returned to the Rehab unit at St. Mary's. His blood pressure was twenty points lower.

I'd paged both Dr. Moore and the Diabetes Consulting Service earlier that morning at the hospital to let them know how the overnight had gone. There was a team meeting at 11:00 a.m. to decide Larry's fate.

Everyone there was amazed to learn that Larry had successfully gotten himself off of and out of bed, and to and from the toilet, without assistance.

It was clear he was going to do well at home. He was given the green light to discharge permanently on Friday.

*****

We ran into lots of people those last few days at St. Mary's quite coincidentally, and it was most gratifying to be able to tell them that Larry was doing well and going home. Dr. Donnelly, Dr. Bannon, various residents, dialysis nurses. . .

Larry walked up to 7B/G (the Surgical ICU) to say goodbye.

SING, CHOIRS OF ANGELS

There was a heavenly sound emanating from the room next to Larry's last evening, an angelic Appalachian a capella. Christmas carols.

It was a small group of Mennonites.

Larry's nurse beckoned for them to come into Larry's room to sing to him.

Joy to the world! the Lord is come:
let earth receive her King;
let every heart prepare him room,
and heaven and nature sing,
and heaven and nature sing,
and heaven, and heaven and nature sing.

Joy to the world! the Savior reigns;
let us our songs employ,
while fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains
repeat the sounding joy,
repeat the sounding joy,
repeat, repeat the sounding joy.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,
nor thorns infest the ground;
he comes to make his blessings flow
far as the curse is found,
far as the curse is found,
far as, far as the curse is found.

He rules the world with truth and grace,
and makes the nations prove
the glories of his righteousness,
and wonders of his love,
and wonders of his love,
and wonders, wonders of his love.


I've long known that my husband was a freely flowing fountain of tears. The gates opened. He wept with emotion as he sat in his wheelchair, serenaded by the simplest of Christian choirs.


O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,
O come ye, O come ye, to Bethlehem.
Come and behold Him, born the King of angels;

O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.

True God of true God, Light from Light Eternal,
Lo, He shuns not the Virgin’s womb;
Son of the Father, begotten, not created;

O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.

Sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation;
O sing, all ye citizens of heaven above!
Glory to God, all glory in the highest;

O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.

Yea, Lord, we greet Thee, born this happy morning;
Jesus, to Thee be glory given;
Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing.

O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.


"We can come back Wednesday night and sing for you again, if you'd like."

Yes, he said. That would be wonderful.

"I got everything I wanted," I replied.