I have a few Christmases under my belt now. One particular Christmas stands out over the rest as being the sweetest (which doesn't mean there weren't others that were sweet).

Fifteen days before Christmas that year, I had a baby. In the middle of an ice storm in northern Minnesota.

It had been a challenging pregnancy since I was 41 at the time and the baby's dad had been laid off from his job shortly before we learned I was pregnant with this unexpected gift.

A few months earlier I had been reading the now-closed Mommy Life blog written by Barbara Curtis, who was the mother to a large beautiful family, including four boys with Trisomy 21 (or T-21)—one by birth, and the other three through adoption.

I had told God that I was willing to have a baby with Trisomy 21, if He wanted that for our family. I assumed, if it happened, that it would be through adoption.

A few months into my pregnancy, and before I learned about hearing God, I asked Him what He wanted me to know about this baby. I "knew" this baby would have T-21 and would come by C-section. Even though I had a midwife for a homebirth.

God showed Himself in many ways during that pregnancy and birth... by C-section. So, when the pediatrician said he needed to be transferred to the Children's hospital because of an intestinal blockage, my heart was full of peace.

I stayed home for a week with the other children, pumping milk and resting, and his dad, who was still unemployed, went to the city and stayed with family while visiting the baby in the NICU.

After surgery to repair the blockage, we thought they would be coming home, but there were some feeding issues. So we packed up and headed to the city to be with Baby, and for me to nurse him, in the hopes of coming home by Christmas.

Instead, we spent Christmas in the Children's hospital, with a baby in the NICU and five children in the NICU waiting room.

There were other families there for their NICU babies that day. Most of them had only the baby in the NICU.

The waiting room had a continental breakfast buffet and plenty of coffee, so we were covered for breakfast. About an hour before lunch time, we began to discuss as a group our options for a Christmas Day meal. We weren't picky. And we had the yellow pages... asking Google for the nearest open restaurant, or opening the Uber Eats app weren't options at the time.

We used the land line in the waiting room and someone called a few Chinese restaurants to see if they delivered. None did.

We paused and wistfully asked God what to do next.

Then the waiting room door opened and a case worker came in with three people we didn't know... a man, a woman, and a teenaged boy. One of them was pushing a catering cart.

They introduced themselves briefly and shared that more than a decade ago, they had spent a Christmas in that very waiting room, with a baby in the NICU. And they promised they would never forget that there was nowhere to get dinner (or any other food... besides bagels and cream cheese) on Christmas day.

So, every year they came, with a catering cart full of deli meats and cheeses, side dishes, breads, condiments, and dessert. I'm sure they brought drinks too.

All the post-partum moms in the room cried. Some of the dads might have too. The children cheered.

We ate together, laughed together, and prayed together.

We were all alone... together. All away from home, in an unfamiliar, and inconvenient place. And yet, God saw us, and met our need.

It was the sweetest, most peaceful Christmas.

Maybe you’re not in a hospital waiting room this year, but you're still in a season that feels in-between. Maybe it’s not how you thought life would look by now.

Maybe you’re waiting for a breakthrough. Or nursing a grief that hasn’t yet healed.
You haven’t failed.
You’re not forgotten.
God still sees you.
And His kindness might show up in unexpected ways.