A four year old's view from the hospital at Christmastime

This is no place to have to spend the Christmas holidays. Especially if you are only four years old. In a Children's Hospital. Quiet and away from friends. Dealing with pain. Undergoing her first of several rounds of chemotherapy. The treatment will last 18 months. Heartbreaking to see her go through all of this. The disease is so big, and she is so small. But when we see all of this through the eyes of a little child there is more we can get than we can give.

At Christmas we celebrate that a child was born 2,000 years ago to teach us. Not to judge us, but to save us. And now, another little child, Thomasina, is teaching us more than we could have imagined.

1. Most of the things we worry about just don't matter. All those anxieties and fears we conjure up in our heads mean nothing compared to hearing the words "your child has cancer." All the worries and anger we harbor in our heads are meaningless. Wish you had more money? A nicer car? A job that helped you achieve personal fulfillment? Get over it. When a child very quietly says "my tummy hurts" it shakes you back into the reality of the real problem behind that pain. A problem she cannot even comprehend. We would gladly trade all the frills of life away so that children do not have to deal with this. Wouldn't you?
2. Celebrate the little things which really are big things. When the chemotherapy does not show a bad side effect today, when she can take a nap, when she sits up and plays with her dolls, can still brush her hair, the burst of energy when she skips down the hall of the hospital, or hugs the companion dogs that visit her room these are all moments to celebrate. Savor these memories. These are the real gold medal moments. They mean so much more than all the sport championships in the world. Because nothing beats the genuine smile of a child.
3. People really are good. It is overwhelmingly amazing how kind and generous so many people are. The mountain of stuffed animals for Thomasina, the cards, calls and texts for her and her parents is incredible. A little Christmas tree in her room covered with decorations made by her classmates from preschool is beautiful beyond words. While her mom and dad show outward strength and encourage her to be brave, I know they are hurting too. "We just feel so helpless" they say quietly. But the goodness of friends and strangers from around the country gives the family the support that nurtures strength, and reminds them that no parent is ever helpless when loving a child.
4. We have so much to learn. There is no cure for cancer. But we can fight it. Doctors and nurses who never knew her a week ago have quickly become her friends. This is genuine compassion mixed with the best of modern medicine. But we need so much more. We are a long way from beating this. So humbling.
5. Prayers are powerful. Daily we receive messages from individuals and groups, from people we have known for years, or have never met, and from many faiths who are praying for healing, strength for the family, and wisdom for her providers. Tommie understands prayer, too, and all its comfort and all its power. She may not understand cancer, but she understands David and Goliath. So we drew a picture of little David and the giant Goliath on a chalkboard at the hospital. She drew a rock in David's hand, then drew a line to Goliaths head, and then the rock in the middle of Goliaths head. "He's dead, David killed him," she said matter of factly. The metaphor was not lost. Little people can slay big giants, even if the giant is a disease.
6. Be strong and courageous (Joshua 1:9). No matter what you are facing, be strong and courageous. No matter how many times you have failed, no matter how much you think you cannot forgive nor be forgiven, be strong and courageous. Forgive anyway. No matter what a mess the world is in, be strong and courageous. As Tommie's grandfather, there are times when I just have to have a good cry, then remind myself that it is up to us, the grown ups, to set a brave tone in front of children. Its up to the helpers to be the strength in this troubled world because she is so little and her fight is so big. Children fighting cancer know strength and courage. It is inspired by the purity of a hope and faith that we adults have forgotten.

Christmas is a time when we should reawaken the hope and faith we knew as children. Let the rest go. Have faith. Be strong. There is much we can learn from the eyes of a child in a hospital at Christmastime. I hope that on this Christmas, you have the opportunity to open your heart and re-learn these lessons as well. Wake them up. Remember them. And share that bright star with those you love. That is the best present of all.