A Christmas Miracle

I have no pictures to share tonight as my camera battery remains forgotten and huddled to the wall in my living room 7 miles away from this hospital chair.  A sad day to forget it, I'm sure I'll feel later.  But there are too many things to be grateful for to dwell on that any longer.  Besides, no picture could capture the feelings of this Christmas night.  So instead I'm left to just words; though, words do seem so very inadequate.

My heart feels warm tonight.  Broken, bruised, torn, certainly.  But beautifully warm.  The sleeping pill I just swallowed will start to take hold of my mind in just a few minutes, making this small hospital chair seem much more comfortable than it actually is, but I would be sad to miss this chance to write down the few words that are in my heart tonight.  Words of intense gratitude... gratitude so deep and encompassing that I feel a new hole has been ripped through my soul to make room for it.  Gratitude so filling and so personal that it won't stop coursing down my cheeks in silent tears. My husband is breathing... I can hear it... deep and soft... he's sleeping... And just a couple of hours ago, I climbed up into his hospital bed to snuggle down, found a spot in between all the wires hooked to his chest to rest my head, and turned on a movie.  The movie was mediocre, but listening to his heartbeat underneath my ear was an experience that will be burned into my memory forever. 

His heart beats still.  Not as well as it did before the heart attack.  But it beats still. 

The warm lights from the Christmas strands strung across the room make me feel cozy tonight in more than one way.  Their soft glow naturally creates the atmosphere for it, but the real coziness comes from knowing that true friends were so willing to drop their own Christmas eve plans to come decorate when Brian moved from the ICU.  The three foot Christmas tree stands in the window as a symbol of the love that has been poured out for us over the last four days.  How can I thank you all?  Will you ever know how much I needed you and how grateful I am that you were there?  While my thoughts were turned to nothing but my husband, you were loving my children, scrubbing my house, restocking my fridge, doing (all) my laundry, wrapping the mountain of Christmas presents I had prepared for my family, bringing your love to me in the forms of hugs, dinners, gift cards, cash, phone calls, texts, e-mails, messages, bags of cinnamon smelling pine cones, and a suitcase full of decorations.  You cried with me and prayed and fasted.  And in doing all of this, you gave me the most precious gift this Christmas: your time.  Oh, how I love you all.

I feel my head swimming in sleepiness, but I will sleep well tonight... though I will be physically wrapped in a scratchy, white, hospital sheet, I will be emotionally wrapped in this seemingly endless field of gratitude.  Gratitude for all of you. 

But mostly gratitude to the Lord for the life of my husband.  Miracles seemed to drop from the sky in order for Brian to survive the type of attack he had. So, that deep breathing I hear next to me, that heart pumping blood underneath all those wires, that body and soul that have become my everything...

...that is my Christmas miracle.