Christmas Miracles?

There's something about this perticular holiday season that isn't sitting quite right with me. It's come too quickly. It's been 50 and 60 degree weather. I can't seem to focus on anything. It's just been a little off.

Two days ago, we found out that one of the teachers at our school was diagnosed with lung cancer, and that she would be in the hospital for treatment over the holiday. She had been sick with pneumonia since before thanksgiving, and just wasn't getting better. When we heard the news, there was sortof an inaudible gasp, and lots of "that just plain sucks."
I left that faculty meeting, feeling nothing any different than I've felt that entire day but, "man. What crummy news."

The very next day, we find out that her cancer is very terminal and not only have they moved her to the hospice wing of the hospital, but they don't anticipate her making it past the holiday. And again, for the past three days I am made of tin. I feel nothing. I'm sad, sure, but nothing really interferes with my daily thoughts or (lack of) emotions. I just have no reaction.

I wasn't too worried about this--I don't really react to things emotionally very often or well. I was more wondering *when* it would hit me. And if it would be too late when it did.


I came home from school today, and I called my mom to see if she and dad were in Tulsa yet. They're coming down this Christmas so we can all be together when Niki and Matt have their baby. My mom says that she and dad haven't been having the best day. Apparently when they woke up this morning and went to the hotel parking lot to thier car, someone had smashed out a window and taken everything out of it. My dad's golf clubs. My mom's medicines. All of the christmas presents they were bringing down. It's all gone.

My first reaction to this is total and complete anger. My parents are two of the kindest and most generous people I know (especially at Christmas) and somebody stole it all away from them while they were sleeping. My second reaction was sadness, because I know my parents, and they are going to try to fix it when they don't need to.
But my reactions were borderlining hysterics (for my empty tin chest, that is), and it really bugged me that I was reacting so much to "stuff" that can be replaced. I already know that it's all just "stuff."

So now, of course, I'm a horrible person for crying about vandalism and theft and not even batting an eye at cancer. But I think that my reaction to the break-in was the culmination of everything else finally spilling out. I'm learning more about myself every day, and I think as far as my emotions go I can only give all or nothing. And unless I have something (or several somethings) that pushes me to the point of overflowing, there's no sign of life.

All that being said,Miracles are miracles--whether they happen at Christmas or not. And I really don't think God times them to make our holidays happier. So pray for KC Randolph, her 9 year old boy, and the rest of her family. And praise God that you get to be with yours.