With Christmas upon us, I wanted to share a special Christmas with you. It was Christmas of 1993.
All I wanted for Christmas that year was a day without pain. I lived with chronic back pain for a month; it hurt to laugh, sneeze, move quickly, sit on the bus, sit in the car, and sleep in a bed. Everything I did caused me pain, pain I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I never knew where the pain would be, and I never knew how intense it was going to feel.
The only thing I prayed for was a day without pain. I didn’t care what Santa brought me; I just was tired of hurting. Our family tradition was to wake up Christmas morning, open presents, eat some cookies, and drive two hours to see our grandparents. I loved Christmas. It was and continues to be my favorite time of the year, but I was not looking forward to this particular Christmas. It hurt to be in a car for just ten minutes, let alone two hours, because the seats were uncomfortable, and each time the car went over a bump, I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my back.
Christmas morning, I got my first miracle: I woke up without pain. For the first time in two months, I could move freely. I could sit on the ground. I could twist and turn. I thanked God for the greatest gift I could have been given. I opened my presents with my family, ate some cookies, and survived the two-hour drive to see my grandparents without pain. Christmas morning, I learned miracles do happen.