I’ve only spent two Christmases away from home. The first time I was 33 years old and receiving chemotherapy treatment in an isolation room in Houston’s M.D. Anderson hospital. Michael was home with our four young children, and my dad flew to Houston, courtesy of Anne and Emile Bergeron, to spend Christmas Day with me. No one knew he didn’t have the money for a hotel, so thankfully his plan to sleep on the sofa in the hospital’s lobby worked out. We spent Christmas Day visiting through the glass window that sealed me in a sterile environment. I know, I know, so far it sounds sad, but hang on. It really wasn’t.

We talked and laughed and prayed. We paused as I received Christmas calls from far too many people to name. While on the phone, I watched as he either read the Bible or ate from the cookie-filled shoe box that a friend had dropped off. Although we were without the comforts of home or the company of family and friends, we had a really great day. It was so very peaceful. I wasn’t depressed, angry or visited by self-pity. I was alive. My family was healthy and safe, and I was secure in the knowledge of God’s infinite love and His ability to perform the miraculous.

The second time I spent Christmas outside of Louisiana was a little farther north. At the time, my daughter, Elise, was 12 years old and dreamed of walking the crowded streets of New York City. She had never dreamed of becoming ill. How odd that a dreaded disease would somehow give way to the fulfillment of a dream.

After bravely enduring chemotherapy treatment for lymphoma,

she was contacted by the Make-A-Wish Foundation, which grants wishes to children diagnosed with life threatening illnesses. When

she shared her wish to visit New York, her father suggested Disney World instead. “Daddy,” she

replied, “I’ve been there, and that’s a place you and Mom will take us again. I don’t think you’ll ever

plan a trip to New York.” (Besides being brave, Elise was also very wise.)

Although we tried to imagine what it would be like, none of us were prepared for the actual adventure

of New York City at Christmastime. We toured the city and marveled at the sights we had only seen in pictures and on television. While walking up to view the tree at Rockefeller Center, the young man on the side of us dropped to one knee and proposed to a very excited young woman. We went to the top

of the Empire State Building, visited Central Park, Times Square

and Fifth Avenue and didn’t let

the freezing rain stop us from

running around the Statue of Liberty. We were excited and determined to do and see as much as we could but were unprepared for the emotions we felt as we stood at Ground Zero and re-lived the Sept. 11 tragedy.

A Broadway play and the Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall were both beyond our expectations, especially the dramatic living Nativity scene that concluded the Christmas Spectacular. As we exited Radio City Music Hall, it began to snow. Elise walked ahead of us, confidently navigating the crowd. Although I couldn’t speak, my heart exploded that Christmas Day as I watched my daughter experience her dream of walking the crowded streets of New York City, and I thanked God that my wish, my prayer, my daily plea for her life, had also been granted.

This Christmas will be spent

at home, with lots of people and presents and food. However, in the midst of all the activity, my heart will beat with the rhythms of peace, faith and gratitude I learned through my two out of town Christmas experiences.

No matter where we are, no matter who we’re with, Christmas Day and every day, may we be found utterly dependent upon, and thoroughly grateful to our God, “Who so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com.