The Spirit of Christmas and Believing in Miracles

I think I was eight years old when I stopped believing in Santa Claus. My best friend told me the “truth” and I came stomping into my house with tears in my eyes demanding the truth from my mom. My mom, very calmly, held her composure (as she always did when I was freaking out) and said, “Bonnie, he only exists if you believe. If you stop believing, he stops existing.”

I shouted, “He either exists or he doesn’t exist!”

My mom shook her head. “Miracles only happen when you believe.”

I thought about that statement often when my mom was in the hospital suddenly undergoing brain surgery. I had to believe it was true. I clutched the rosaries we found in her purse and said the Sacred Heart of Jesus prayer over and over. I begged my family to have faith that she would survive because there was power in numbers and if we all believed in miracles, it would come true. We held hands in a circle and prayed together. I was desperate for my mom to live but I was also just taking her advice.

We did not get our miracle and it forced me into a dark place, unable to accept that miracles happened to me or the people closest to me. We lived through an unthinkable tragedy that should have never happened and I lost faith.

Holy Innocents Church, Christmas Mass 2019

A conversation with a medium about a month or so after my mom died made me, again, start thinking about prayer. I continued to pray, mainly because my mom told me to. The pain was too large though. I felt numb. One day, as I sat in church by myself, it hit me that I wasn’t supposed to do this alone. Up until that point, I was avoiding going to church with my dad because I thought the pain of being back there after my mom’s funeral would be too much. I also knew I would go back to the house and be haunted by the memories of that day/night that my mom got sick. But, despite all of this, I went back. Above all else, I wanted to be there for my dad and I wanted us to be together.

“If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, nothing will be impossible for you”

Sure enough, the homily that day was about loss and dealing with loss. It was about others who tragically lost a family member and the struggle of moving on or having faith. Our priest referenced the book of Matthew. “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, nothing will be impossible for you.”

After mass, my dad and I prayed to the Sacred Heart of Jesus statue that my mom always prayed to, and encouraged me to pray to because her mom believed strongly in that prayer. As we were about to walk out of church, our priest approached us and asked, “Did you like that gift?” I smiled.

Throughout the years, way into adulthood, my mom encouraged us to continue to believe in the miracles of Christmas. Every year, usually the day after Thanksgiving, we could expect a text message that asked us to send her our “lists to Santa.” Despite adult knowledge and responsibilities, my mom encouraged us to be innocent. In my wedding video, she even says, “I want her to have that happiness and innocence, good or bad….”

I dreaded my mom’s absence during the holidays this year. I took pictures of my parent’s house decorated wonderfully last year for reasons I don’t know. I just did. It was the first time I realized my mom still decorated the house from the top to the bottom (see photo gallery), despite none of the kids being there and despite us not celebrating at their house. I wonder still why she did it? For nostalgia? Out of routine commitment? Or because, even though she felt sadness around the holidays too, she believed in the spirit of Christmas.

While the house certainly did not look as magical as when my mom decorated, I still did my best to add some of that Christmas spirit to it to provide comfort to my dad, and to myself.

I began to hear my mom again. As I recovered from surgery this past Thanksgiving and struggled to believe that our prayers for a baby would ever be answered, I heard a voice in my head - my mom - who said, “Bonnie, you have to believe,” the same thing she always told me as a kid. While out shopping, I saw a decoration that said, “Believe in the Miracle of Christmas” and I had to buy it. I found comfort, for the first time in a long time, in the thought of believing.

Christmas at my sister’s house, 2017. My mom sitting in her “chair.”

Mom, I believe. I believe in Christmas miracles and I believe that you are here with us. I believe that you never left us and I hope you were proud of us this year as we struggled through grief and sadness, but also laughed and cried together. I felt your arms wrapped around me as I sat in your chair and watched from afar, just as you did, watching your family be together. That’s all you ever wanted - for us to simply be together. I pray so hard that Henry and I are blessed with what you were able to accomplish with Kate, Dana, Heather, and I. I hope I can be a mom so that I can pass on all of the amazing traits that you gave me, such as your unconditional love, warmth, compassion, strength, and kindness. You taught me how to find the good in all people and to recognize that every single person we meet is carrying a burden. You instilled in me the need to always give back to others. I plan on teaching my own children these values. I will teach them how to be a good person and how to be strong; how to survive despite tragedy and sadness. I will also urge them to always believe.

Mom, I will keep believing in miracles. I will keep praying the Sacred Heart of Jesus prayer. I will not lose faith.

I love you infinity.

Love,

Your Sweetheart