It wasn't so long ago that Christmas sneaked up on us, warming our hearts, lifting our spirits and snitching our wallets. This past December I asked my wife, "What do we get for the person who has everything?"
"How about nothing?" she said. And she was right. Those who don't follow her advice are now paying off their Mastercard with their Visa because they've been trying to impress people they don't really like with things they don't really need—and earn Air Miles. The bills have them so stressed they are using Pepto Bismol as gravy and Rolaids for breath mints. Is there a better way?
Ed thinks so. One month before Christmas, he sat in disbelief listening to a doctor's shocking news. At the age of 49 he had colon cancer. The words struck him over and over like a baseball bat: "The cancer is very advanced. I've seen other cases like this and it's highly unlikely that your body can fight it more than six months. We'll do all we can to help you, but you had better get your affairs in order. I'm so sorry."
Driving home through the blinding tears, the disbelief turned to shock. As one of Canada's most successful oil executives, Ed was accustomed to controlling things. With a spacious office high atop a Calgary skyscraper, everything he could ask for was waiting to be summoned. He wondered how he would tell his wife? They'd hardly spoken all week. All year, for that matter.
As he cradled her in his arms and told her the diagnosis, she broke down and wept. After a sleepless night, Ed called the office. For the first time in seventeen years he would not be at work. His work meant everything to him, what would he do without it? He could have retired long ago, but it kept him from facing a string of broken relationships.
How would he tell his three children? They lived nearby, but they were strangers now. And what about the grandchildren? Would they even remember him? Would they care? Each year on their birthdays he had his secretary mail them cards, then Christmas gifts of her choosing, but he seldom saw them, and he'd never been able to get their names straight. Should I call a minister? he wondered. But church hadn't been a part of his life since his wedding day. He hadn't the time for it. Besides, who would he call? What would he say? Was he a Baptist or a Buddhist? He hadn't a clue.
Thankfully Ed was wrong. His children were devastated by the news of his illness. For the first time ever they saw their father reduced to tears. And they heard the words he’d never told them: "I love you." That night, an old friend from college called. He'd heard the news. He was a minister. Could they go out for breakfast? How did eight o’clock sound?
The next day after steak and eggs, Ed and his wife booked twelve tickets to Mexico, enough to take their children, their spouses, and all the grandchildren for two weeks.
It was a Christmas like no other. Though the doctor had done a painful colonoscopy, leaving Ed barely able to sit on the airplane, he had the time of his life. Surrounded by family, he began to wonder where he'd been all these years. He watched them frolic in the surf. He even went hang-gliding. And the grandkids buried him up to the neck in sand. "Best two weeks of my life," he told me. "I didn’t start living until I found out I was dying."
Back home he went to see his doctor. He had never been ushered into a doctor's office so quickly. Seated behind a desk, Ed noticed that the doctor's face was the colour of a snowball. "Ed, I don't know how to tell you this, but we've made a terrible mistake. We…uh…got the files mixed up. You're healthy as a horse."
Ed couldn't bear to hope that the doctor's words were true. He sat still, unable to utter a word.
Finally he lurched to his feet and let out a boisterous laugh.
"You're worried about a lawsuit, aren't you, Doc?"
"Um...uh," stammered the doctor, "Yes we are."
Ed couldn't stop laughing.
"How could I sue?" he grinned. "You see Doctor, I was a workaholic. The only thing I valued was money. It was all I could see. Then came your diagnosis. It changed everything. I made things right with my kids. I know my grandchildren's names and they know mine. I've made things right with God too. I'm going to church again and I've never been more alive in my life. Thank you, thank you. The worst news I ever received turned out to be the best." Then Ed grabbed and embraced the most surprised and grateful doctor in the history of medicine.
Health is a gift, to be sure, but forgiveness, reconciliation, and a new grasp on what's truly important in life, are gifts we can unwrap together for years to come.
