Why can’t every day be like Christmas?
It can be. In fact, for caregivers, it already is.
It’s hard to be a caregiver on any day. But I found it especially difficult during the Christmas season. It had to do with the things that change during the holidays. And the things that don’t.
One huge change: the gaiety is relentless. Wherever you go, everyone seems friendlier. Smiles seem more sincere. And greetings abound, from people you see in line at the grocery store, trudging through a crowded mall, hiking across a parking lot, sitting behind you on the bus.
And music—it’s constant: on the radio, on TV, in every store, even singing out from speakers nestled under the neighbor’s eaves. The newest tunes demand that we forget our pain and rejoice in all the merriest of ways, while the old songs open our hearts to the timeless themes of love and forgiveness.
The scenery is another drastic change. Ribbons, red and green and gold and silver, hang from street signs and light poles. Real or artificial, evergreen is everywhere. Tiny lights shine up from the trunks of trees out to the smallest, highest branches. Lights march in straight lines around rooftops, drip into bright icicles, and fall in dazzling clusters. The lawns that in summer craved water and shade now turn into snowy scenes of Santa’s workshop or lush forests filled with glittering rabbits and deer.
Or, sweetest of all, maybe Bethlehem rises from the grass, with a stable where Mary and Joseph, shepherds and kings, angels and animals stand or kneel as if frozen, gazing in awe at the Baby sleeping in the manger.
Yet…in many houses, it appears nothing has changed. Just as it did in spring and summer and fall, illness works to darken the rooms. It tries to still the music. It threatens to silence the greetings and dim the smiles.
Caregiving becomes even harder, it seems. We do our best to savor the holy holiday, while our loved ones with Alzheimer’s remain largely unaware.
But think about it. Isn’t this the battle we caregivers face daily? We fight to brighten every day. We struggle to hold on to beauty whenever and wherever we can find it—in music, nature, laughter, smiles, companionship. We offer those gifts every day to our loved ones. We try to help them see and hear and feel the joy of being alive. We do our best to keep life from slipping out of their hands.
And we do it with the help of the Babe in the manger. He himself told us his very reason for coming was to bring us life, “abundant life,” and He promised to be with us always.
Which brings us to an amazing conclusion. A sweet and undeniable truth:
For caregivers and their loved ones, every day is indeed Christmas.
With the help of a King who gave Himself so that we might truly live, we give the best of ourselves to bring more life to those we love. Every day. That’s what caregivers do. And that’s Christmas.
I pray your holidays bring you a rebirth of love and strength and joy.
“I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.” (John 10:10 NIV)
Sweet Jesus, thank You for coming to us. Thank you for helping us celebrate Your birth. Please make us humble like You, and strong like You, and loving like You. Be with us as we do our best to serve You by serving each other, every day.
