Christmas in Hospice

Being a nurse has its duties that are always unwelcome into my mind and wishes, schedules that are out of my control, and losing patients I'd try so hard to spare from their end. Christmas wasn't always busy, unlike other holidays like Halloween or New Year where people party and drink - opening risks galore, Christmas was a time for people to bond and settle in. Friends and family all over the world sat cozy by fires, roasting marshmallows and sipping on cocoa while I worked my feet scaling the halls of the hospital. It isn't that I minded, I was able to spend my morning alongside my wife and son opening presents, which is all that mattered to me. But something about being able to sit on the couch bundled up in PJs and fuzzy socks sounded so amazing. Walking to the front desk, I saw a small black family. Two children and their parents. The children were complaining about earaches. The parents each said they had stomach and headaches that kept them up all night. Just judging off their clothing, the snow that powdered their clothes, and the sharp red hue to their skins told me that they weren't sick - they were homeless, searching for warmth. "Come with me," I smiled, "We can get you in immediately." I led the family to a vacant room, checking each of their vitals. All were 110%, the only off thing being the poor, blue-lipped children's below-average temperatures. As soon as I removed myself from their room, I round up a few of my colleagues and drag them into our break room - introducing my idea.

"That poor homeless family will freeze out there." I empathized.

"I agree, but what are we to do? We'll get in so much trouble if we help them." My colleague countered.

"Who's telling?" I questioned. Silence between everyone. "It's Christmas. We can gift this family with dinner, warmth, gift them with a true Christmas."

Glances pursued between everyone before smiles formed on their faces, each agreeing to lend a hand in this Christmas in hospice. One by one, we scattered the hospital. I went to the gift shop, purchasing two microwavable teddy bears that smelled like eucalyptus and lavender. I also purchased two pairs of fluffy socks for the parents, along with a couple of candy bars as sweet treats. I hurried to the cafeteria with my bag of goodies, helping out a colleague with getting trays of food. Grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, rolls, and cinnamon rolls filled in four trays. Back on the patient floors, as I approached this family's room, I noticed the four of them sitting together - praying. I waited. Waited. Waited for their prayer to be over, and watched as tears fell down the mother's cheeks. Watched as the father wiped them for her, watched as the children came together to hug their parents who were trying their hardest to maintain. To survive, to provide. Tears stung the back of my eyes, but I walked in anyway. My colleagues behind me all smiled with me, as we all exclaimed: "Merry Christmas!" bringing in the gifts and clothes and food. I sat with the children, giving them their teddy bears. The boy was named Damion. His sister was named E'manty. They both hugged me, and it was the best damned hug I had ever received. I gifted the parents the socks and treats, not wanting Damion and E'manty to get real stomach aches. The mother, Janai, cried. She cried so hard, holding my hands and thanking me. Thanking me and thanking me. "I have prayed daily for my guardian angel, and it finally seems as if God has sent me her. Thank you, Thank you," she sobbed. I hugged her so tight and finally allowed my tears to fall. The father, Jordan, nodded his thanks to me before helping his children with the food.

"Excuse me, Nurse." I heard Janai speak, "If it isn't too much to ask, will you do us the honor of joining our prayer before we eat?"

I felt my heart melt, the tears threatening to fall again. Of course, I agreed. I joined them in sitting on the floor, holding Janai and Damion's hands, Damion holding E'manty's, E'manty holding Jordan's, and Jordan holding Janai's. We all closed our eyes and bowed our heads, including my colleagues standing in the room with us.

"Lord, my family thanks you for answering our prayers so graciously. Not only have you given us warmth, but you've gifted us with food and new clothes. I thank you for this Nurse who made Christmas happen, who did what she could alongside her coworkers to treat us with such love and respect." Her voice broke, and I began to shed tears.

E'manty chimed in, "She gave me a bear! And sweets!"

Damion interrupted, "Me too! She gave us friends."

I was smiling, but I was crying for this family. For this mother.

"I pray you treat this woman with all the guidance and love you have to offer, Lord," Jordan added.

All at once, the family and my colleagues spoke. "Amen."

We all smiled, wiping tears.

E'manty and Damion laughed as they played 'Hospital' with their two bears, who they named 'Elfie' and 'Mistletoe'. I chatted with Janai about her family, and how they became to be where they were. As I found out, Hurricane Ian had wiped out their home. They'd been homeless a little under two months now, begging in front of a local Target. She explained how the reason they got as many donations as they had was because of their daughter, who has a true talent and passion for the violin. The only item that was saved from the home. We spoke about my family, and how I met my wife six years ago while caroling. How I married her and bonded with her son as if he were my own. I shared photos, she shared stories - and I found myself loving this family. We talked and laughed and sang Christmas carols for four hours, and only until the children had fallen asleep in the hospital bed after eating, after another prayer with Janai, and wishing them all the best did I leave to clock out of my shift. Before exiting the room, I turned to the family and told them one last thing.

"Merry Christmas."