The Garden Way: Cultivating Intentionality in a Fast-Paced World.

Christmas, 2009

My Facebook memories recently shared a photo from 16 years ago. In it, my mom and I are clowning over a table laden with holiday foods. I’m sporting the only red shirt that I owned at the time (a long-sleeved T-shirt that my husband brought back from his office) and a Santa hat. My mom is looking youthful and vivacious, as always. The picture evokes all the spirit you’d expect in a Christmas photo.

Except that if you zoom in closely, I have no eyebrows. And, under the hat, I have a bandana, but no hair. And my nails are a little bit loose. And maybe I have two eyelashes on my left eyelid, and three on my right.

You see, chemo day was on Tuesday, and Neulasta day was on Wednesday, which meant Friday (Christmas) was going to be a bugger. So my mom flew up from Florida to help me cook Christmas dinner. The adult boys, who had not awakened on Christmas morning in our house in the city, arrived the night before and camped out on the fold-out sofa bed, falling asleep under the twinkling of the Christmas tree lights in the next room, and were excited to wake up to presents the next morning, even though they were college-age. My husband and youngest son had helped me set up the tree earlier in the week. Despite my fatigue and chemo-induced fever and my other breast cancer treatments, I was determined to have a memorable Christmas. And we did.

People often commented on how brave I was being. I didn’t think I was courageous at all. I didn’t have a choice – what other option could I have except move forward? I went to my youngest son’s basketball games, drove to parent-teacher conferences, and, when I couldn’t read to him, my little one read to me, instead. You see, courage doesn’t mean you’re not scared, or sad, or that you have some superhuman strength. It means that, despite your fear, and your weakness, and your human frailties, you make the conscious decision to keep moving forward.

Your Inner Warrior

Have you ever heard the expression, “Not all superheroes wear capes?” Well, not all warriors carry shields and swords. Sometimes, their “weapons” are a plate of cookies, a warm smile, or a pat on the bald head of an ailing parent. That winter, we were all warriors. My youngest, for tucking me in with his little boy’s hands when I was hurting all over. My husband, for all his warrior prayers for all those weeks of my recovery. My mother, for standing in the gap for us when we were all stretched thin. My two older boys, for rallying around their mom and asked to see what my head looked like under the scarf.

Many of you who are celebrating this Yule season have gone through, are in the midst of, or are anticipating a season where your warrior skills were tested. On Yule, Night 10, we reflect on that warrior spirit, the times when we have had to stand firm in the face of fear or hardship, where we have had to protect our boundaries, or where we have had to pray a hedge of protection around our loved ones and home. Guess what? The keyword in this paragraph is “through.” You didn’t get stuck in it – you went clear through to the other side. Your scars mean you have endured trials and lived through battles. When you emerged from that battlefield, you learned something about your significant other, your family, your coworkers, and your God. Mostly, though, you learned something about yourself.

Reflecting on Courage During the Past Year

As you ponder the trials you endured, survived, and overcame in the past year, contemplate these reflective questions this Yuletide:

• What have the dark times of the past year taught me about myself, my loved ones, my God?
• What protected me in those dark times?
• What was revealed by the darkness that I missed in the light?

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