The True Meaning of Christmas

My Husband. I love him with all my heart. Every fiber of my being.

I have loved Him since I was 16 years old. I don’t really know anything else. And to be honest, sometimes I don’t even like him.

We don’t see eye to eye on many things. We fight a lot.

He doesn’t think the things I think are important matter.

At all.

And frankly, it irritates me that he can’t pretend to go along. He will humor me, but still, not happily.

This was going to be the year of matching Christmas pajamas. Grinch pajamas specifically.

I am on my phone trying to find them very unsuccessfully. He thinks it’s silly, it doesn’t matter.

We still don’t have a tree and he could care less about that.

We are finishing up our breakfast, and he signals the waitress to come to our table. I look up, and he gives her a 20-dollar bill and says, “I want to pay for the guy’s breakfast over there.”

I look around perplexed and see an elderly gentleman with a cowboy hat sitting alone eating. He goes to tell the waitress not to tell him who paid.

We get up and walk out, and I check out this guy as I walk by looking for a clue or recognition. I smile and mumble a platitude as we pass by.

We get in the car, and I say that’s nice, and he says, “I overheard him talking to the waitress, and he was talking about how he lost his home and his business this year. So, I paid for his breakfast, no big deal.”

I was busy worrying about matching pajamas, oblivious to anything else.

Thinking about how my daughter with special needs will not wear them.

How I want the picture-perfect Christmas things, even though I’ll never have them.

We are busy and messy and stressed. Our house is loud and chaotic. We are literally the Griswold’s.

My daughter will fight me on decorations because she doesn’t like change.

We can’t have the picture-perfect things. Our life just isn’t set up for it. And it’s hard to give that up.

It hurts. I want normalcy.

Yes, things have progressed over the years, and I know in my heart that is what matters, but the progress is so painstakingly slow.

And then there is my husband who did this gesture out of the kindness of his heart. Not for credit. Not for a picture or a Facebook post.

This is the true meaning of Christmas: it’s all the love you’re surrounded with. It’s the blessing your life brings you.

It’s not trying to have what other families have or trying to get that perfect looking picture to post.

My daughter is 24 years old, autistic, and nonverbal. She willingly watched Christmas movies with us for the first time. She rode the Polar Express train and was so happy to see Santa.

She is aware he is bringing her a present. She has picked presents for herself off Amazon. This is our Christmas miracle. Alyssa on the Polar express after receiving bells from Santa.

Today, my husband opened my eyes to what matters.

Matching pajamas don’t matter. Love matters. Family matters. My daughter’s progress matters and is enough.

Merry Christmas.

Written by Kim McIsaac of Autism Adventures with Alyssa