As the song says, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” and I agree.

Lights are going up all over the neighborhood, and holiday decorations are making their annual appearance. Children wait anxiously to find out if they were on the naughty or nice list, and adults cozy themselves by warm fires.

Many Christmases have come and gone for me, but certain truths remain the same, and so I thought I’d share what I know about the holidays with you:

Truth #1: Made-for-television holiday movies always have happy endings.

Truth #2: Having kids is the ultimate leverage in the “who goes where” Christmas schedule.

Truth #3: Like Santa, I will eat copious amounts of icing cookies.

Truth #4: Holiday cheer is more about who you are with and not where you are.

Truth #5: Once something like multiple myeloma enters your world, you’ll never see the holidays the same.

Anyone who has watched a holiday movie can agree with number 1 on my list, and those without kids who are still waiting for their chance to host the family party can agree with number 2. Number 3, I am resigned to and completely unapologetic about, so we can skip that one. It’s numbers 4 and 5 that I want to discuss in my column today.

Holiday cheer is more about who you are with and not where you are. I find this to be particularly true at this stage in my life, and I am often reminded of this maxim by those around me.

You may remember from my column last month ^[1] that my friend “Betty” has lymphoma. I was visiting her in the hospital recently and the subject of the holidays came up. There was a very real possibility that Betty would not be released in time for Thanksgiving. As I looked around her cramped, grey room, I felt terrible that Betty might spend Thanksgiving there.

Trying to put a positive spin on things, I began suggesting which restaurants sell holiday meals for carry out. I mentioned that there was a waiting room with a larger round table in it that most of the family could fit around, and I thought it could be made more festive with a Thanksgiving tablecloth and a center piece. Chatting away, I offered lots of ideas for how to make everything perfect in such an imperfect setting, as Betty listened and smiled.

Finally, she said, “You know, I never would’ve have chosen to be here for the holidays, but if I am it’s okay as long as I have my family with me. Our Thanksgiving traditions are special, but who will make the turkey or “Memaw’s pie” seems so trivial in this place. Having my children and grandchildren here is all I need to feel thankful and blessed this holiday season.”

As I left Betty’s room that day and made my way down to the hospital entrance, a group of volunteer carolers were practicing Christmas music for passersby. Given that we hadn’t had Thanksgiving yet, this was the first time that I heard Christmas music this year. They were cheerfully singing “Sleigh Ride” as I walked past. Making my way down the hall, I heard,

“It’ll nearly be like a picture print by Currier and Ives.
These wonderful things are the things that we remember all through our lives!”

For me, the lighthearted narrative of the song seemed at such odds in that clinical setting. Betty reminded me that the best holidays were not about wooly-mittened children ice skating on frozen lakes, sipping hot cocoa, and building snowmen. It was about holding your loved ones near and being aware that these are the moments you’ll remember – not for their grandness, but for their togetherness.

This last thought is what brings me to number 5. Once something like multiple myeloma enters your world, you’ll never see the holidays the same.

When I look at my husband Daniel or my friend Betty, I am keenly aware that every holiday is a gift. This November, when Daniel visited his multiple myeloma specialist, we were fortunate enough to be told that he did not need treatment yet, and we were given another three months’ reprieve to celebrate the season. Betty was not so fortunate, and she began a new chemo regimen. Once you have experienced these highs and lows, it seems to make the holidays out of treatment that much more precious.

I’m incredibly grateful that we get to spend the holidays together, doing the things we love to do. I find myself taking mental photographs as we hold hands across the family table, or as we look with wonder at the beautiful holiday lights. Listening to seasonal choirs and attending services together, I know what a gift we have been given this season, and my heart feels heavy for those hospitalized with their cancer. 

I treasure this season – not for the things we do, but because we have the freedom to do them together. I treasure this season because it is one more season where Daniel is not in treatment. I treasure this season because every holiday together is one more chance to make the memories and live the life that means so much to both of us.

Before multiple myeloma entered our world, I worried about a lot of the things that people focus on this time of the year: where you will go, how many gifts you need to buy, and how to get it all done in time. Now, those other things seem less important. Now I am thankful to be together, to have him with me another year, and to experience the joys of the season without the worries that treatment would bring.

For our friends undergoing treatment for their multiple myeloma, I pray that you will be with your loved ones and that the joys of the season will find you. Most of all, I pray that you’ll have many more seasons together outside the treatment rooms.

From our house to yours, we wish you all a very Happy Holidays!