So we are home from the hospital, have played our now traditional games of Mario Kart, and both boys are nestled, if not yet asleep. Zack will undoubtedly sneak out of his room around 4a to check on his stocking & see what Santa has brought for him. Just as undoubtedly, Sam will hold to his promise to sleep in until 8a. What those 4 hours of in between time will bring, who knows? We'll find out!!

But that's Christmas pretty much as per usual for our family, and we are grateful, grateful, grateful to experience it.

As happy as we are to be all together, I wanted to post about something else.  As difficult as this year has been for us, there have been some miraculous gifts. The most obvious one is that we can now see better whole populations of people who we were maybe blind to before. (Me more than Kathy, who's always been in tune with this stuff, but both of us have gotten quite an experiential education, and it's a genuine gift.)

One of the families we saw on the stem cell ward today was a young couple with two little girls -- maybe 2 or 3 years old. One of the little girls was hooked up to an infusion like Sam's that her dad was carting around for her. The other was tagging along. They wanted to talk to me a little bit because I was wandering around wearing my Buddy the Elf outfit. They'll be on the ward until probably Tuesday, although like we've learned, any questions on when something will happen can only be answered tentatively, like a little prayer to the future. 

Anyhow, Tuesday is the plan. They're from Modesto, 90 miles away, so they've been living in the Ronald McDonald House. And their 2022 Christmas will be spent shuttling back and forth between where one of them sleeps with one of their daughters and the hospital, where the other 2 sleep. Still, they're grateful, and hopeful.

So for me this Christmas, I'm holding space to think of them, and their Christmas day, and their road ahead.

And for the nurses who were bringing in a cooler containing stem cells for a boy on the ward. And for the boy himself who's spending this Christmas building a brand new, strong, healthy immune system. And for the stem cell donor who was there with him too.

And also: the countless caregivers who are taking care of these few and so many more. The scientists, and the doctors, and the pharmacists, and the nurses, and the social workers, and on and on and on.

We live in an age of miracles. Curing kids with cancer! Creating whole new immune systems from stem cells! And so many more.

Miracles created by the labor and love of so many people, for the benefit of so many others. Christmas always feels like a miracle to me, every year. And now that we're able to glimpse a little bit of so many of these populations, it feels more miraculous to me than ever.

And now to bed. I really, really wasn't joking about 4a, and if I'm honest about it, that's the absolute best case. That kid is in it to win it, every single time.

Merry Christmas, everyone, and thank you.