Forgive me if I am not big on the hoopla of Christmas as commonly observed by Americans. My whole concept of the season was providentially wrought some time ago in a personal tragedy in our family's history. Today, I have a difficult time with the frivolity of the season, and the excesses of food, drink, consumerism, and general bacchanalian debauchery. Memories of the season were permanently changed for me and my family back in 1970, around Christmas time.
At that time, I was 37 years old, married to my dear wife of 45+ years, with three children, Paul, Julie and Jennifer. We had the richness of extended families on both my and Bev's side of the family, with all of our parents alive and well.
Then it happened. A report came that Bev's father had a massive heart attack while at a party and was saved from death by the heroic efforts of an EMT in an ambulance. He was at the hospital near death. It was a shock to both of us and the the entire family. Bev and I responded to the hospital to be with her father, leaving our children in the care of our oldest, Paul, with whom we kept in touch by phone [but that was before cell phones, so we had to call from a phone booth at the hospital]. It was about the 21st of December, with Christmas coming very soon. Both Bev and I kept a 24-hour vigil at the hospital, always ready to receive the bad news that her father had not made it, but hopeful nonetheless.
We kept that vigil from that time to Christmas eve, when we decided that it was necessary for us to finally return home to the children. Besides, it was our anniversary (yes, that's right; we were married on Christmas eve. That's another long story). Bev's father had survived open heart surgery and they had repaired a massive aneurysm on the back of his heart, so we thought we might get in a little time with the kids and at least do a little bit of celebration of Christmas with them.
It was a blessed evening. Our children were very glad to have us back home, and we opened the gifts on Christmas eve in the event we might have to return to the hospital on Christmas day to be with Bev's father. We enjoyed the evening, the kids went to bed and Bev and I also went to bed. About 12:30am on Christmas day, I lay in our bed unable to sleep because of indigestion - at least I thought it was indigestion. I had had some wonderful fudge that Bev had made, a favorite of mine, and I probably had a little more than I should have. I took an Alka-Seltzer to try and cope, but it did not seem to work. Bev was awakened by my activity and finally she said that we would just get up and go back to the hospital and stop by the ER to see if they could help with the indigestion.
So, we started into town [Springfield, IL] headed for Memorial Hospital where Bev's father was a patient. As we traveled, I began to get chest pains that increased as the seconds went by. I told my dear wife, who was driving, that I felt that I was going to go unconscious, which frightened her tremendously. The pain increased as we went and I then realized that something was seriously wrong. We rushed to the ER, where I was put in an examining room and given a dose of lidocaine to deal with pain. My dear wife was sitting at the foot of my bed with a look of despair on her face, and deep sadness came over me for making my wife so sad. The doctor came in, stood at the foot of the bed next to Bev and said these awful words: "Mr. Edwards, you are having a heart attack right now."
Mind you, the injection of lidocaine had put me in such a state that I was joking and telling the doctors and nurses that I was ready to go home. That stuff had put me right, as they say. Alas, it was not to be. I suffered a heart attack that did damage to the outside surface of the heart in the area that regulates heartbeat, and it remains to this very day, some 35 years later. I also was admitted to the hospital and ended up in a Critical Care module room just one door from where Bev's father lay near death.
Whenever I reflect on the awful load that my precious wife had to suffer at that time, I am moved to sadness and tears. The two most important men in her life both lay within feet of one another, both near death's door. I cannot imagine the grief that she must have felt during that time. I love her for it, but truthfully do not have much recollection of the events as they unfolded, as I was sedated and made comfortable, which for me means pretty much unconscious.
I learned later that the Critical Care Unit staff did something that probably was not entirely the policy of the hospital, but given that it was Christmas day, I think is was a most generous act. They allowed Bev to sleep in the CCU room that was between her father's and my own room. That was truly a kind and merciful act on their part, and I will remember it until I die. They watched over her as well as her father and me. I am forever grateful for their kindness.
So, there is the long and short of it all. Christmas time brings those memories flooding back in my soul. I think of the loneliness of my dear children, faithfully staying at home and getting by in our abscence. Today, time with them is truly precious and I do not wish to waste one moment with frivolity. Being with my wife at Christmas time is the most precious gift I can think of, and I want her to know that. All the activities around the Christmas celebration truly pale into insignificance in light of these things. So, if I am not a great celebrator of Christmas, you at least will understand where my heart is during this time.
Now, the upshot of all this is that our Savior Jesus Christ is the center of our attention during this holiday season. It is He that delivered both Bev's father and me. Her father passed away after a good number of years of survival, and a relatively good quality of life. I recovered fully, but later had to have mulitple (5) bypass surgery as my veins had all clogged up pretty seriously. But it was before I had a subsequent heart attack. I am now some 10 or 11 years after that, and feel very fortunate to have a full and robust life. It is the Lord that is to be praised. These afflictions were from His loving hand, and in the final analysis, they were for my benefit, and for my family's benefit. Life over these years has been far more keenly appreciated than before, and moments are precious to us. Additionally, our faith has grown immensely, our assurance of faith and hope of eternal life has been fortified, and we live with a kind of peace that truly passes understanding.
I would be remiss, though, if I did not make it clear that I am not an old fogey or humbug. I think that families should most certainly celebrate the season in which we recall and bless the appearance of our Savior as He was born into the world. This should be a season of joy and blessed brotherhood, both among our families and among the saints of God. I have no objections to Christmas trees, gift-giving, celebatory meals, and even watching football (though for me it will be watching the Fighting Illini basketball team, if they are on the TV). Life is just too precious and short to spend it complaining about how some sully the season with their excesses. I love this season, even if it contains for for me some painful memories, for God has turned those painful memories to joy by the Holy Spirit, and I will rejoice in it, just as I am instructed by the Holy Scriptures.
With that, I wish you all a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!
