Christmas Letter 2010

Where to begin my Christmas letter for the year 2010?  I actually started composing it three weeks ago and this is what I wrote:

“I’m turning 50 on Christmas Eve and believe it or not, I can’t wait! What a year for me to reach this milestone!  2010 has been the mother of all years for me. Do you remember shortly after I returned from Bosnia last year and I wrote on my blog that ‘what used to be so important now seems trivial at best’?  Well, today all I can say is THAT’S AN UNDERSTATEMENT!  I had absolutely no idea what that really meant the day I wrote it. Oh, I felt it all right. I was still reeling from the stories I’d heard from those brave Bosnian women I had met and who were now my inspiration. What I didn’t know then, was that on April 21, 2010, less than seven months later, the meaning of those words, my words, would come screaming back at me in a way I never imagined possible. So today, thirteen months after first speaking them, I want to reiterate that ‘what used to be so important NOW seems trivial at best.’ 

Nothing, absolutely nothing can prepare you for the experience of seeing your child at death’s door. All I will say is that it’s a good thing I wasn’t still ‘living my safe little life in my tiny little world’ the day Christopher fell out of that tree. That’s not to say I wouldn’t have been able to handle and cope with all that lay ahead of me had I still been living in that tiny little world. However, I truly believe that experiencing all that I did in the months preceding his accident prepared me for the journey I suddenly found myself on late that night, when he was diagnosed with a severe traumatic brain injury.”

As I read those words today, Tuesday, December 21st, they are once again begging to be written here on this page, only now, their meaning has even more significance. Eighteen days ago, I made a late-night trip to the emergency room that led to a diagnosis of multiple massive pulmonary emboli, landing me in the hospital for eight days, five of which were spent in the intensive care unit. Yes, today, WHAT USED TO BE SO IMPORTANT NOW SEEMS TRIVIAL AT BEST!

Christopher in the ICU on April 22, 2010

Standing by Christopher’s bedside while he was in a coma, watching those numbers on the monitor day after day, night after night will forever be embedded in my mind. The thought of losing him was heart wrenching. I spent the weeks and months after Christopher’s miraculous recovery and release from the hospital in a daze. 


Has anyone ever told you that often, after living through a traumatic event, everything falls apart? That YOU fall apart? I was appropriately warned of it, but I didn’t believe it could actually happen to ME. I was fine. I had handled the month Christopher was in the hospital like a champ. I was strong, resilient and optimistic. I was the rock everyone had come to know and I had every reason to be on top of the world. After all, my miracle boy was alive!  But alas, it all came crashing down as the reality of what had transpired settled in and I found myself struggling with what I initially called ‘the blues’ but eventually accepted as depression. I recently read a book and this sentence jumped out at me, “The fogginess lasted a long time… I didn’t live the time after the accident so much as I watched it unfold.” That perfectly describes what life was like for me during those months after we came home from the hospital.

Christopher – June 2010 – Yosemite Nat’l Park

I was a bystander… life happened all around me, but I had a difficult time engaging.  As weeks passed, I accomplished only what was essential.  Of course, I beat myself up on a daily basis for my behavior, but I was unable to change it.  

Ironically, it was on the morning of Friday, December 3^rd, the day of my trip to the ER and pulmonary emboli diagnosis that I said to Paul in a text message, “I’m gradually getting stuff done.  I feel like I’m coming back… a little more energy… a little more positive.”  It was also that morning that I found myself finally breaking down a wall that I had built between God and I.  My heart was softened and I felt a sense of peace.

Emily – Sept. 2010-Sacramento

Who would have thought that that night I would have my very own brush with death?  The timing of my pulmonary emboli and subsequent hospitalization is perplexing to me.  I truly felt that I had struggled enough this year.  I was looking forward to putting everything behind me and moving into the Christmas season feeling refreshed, strong, and once again light-hearted.  But evidently, that was not the plan.  I have learned so much during this difficult year, and one thing that is crystal clear to me is that I have very little control over my destiny.

Nick – July 2010 – Mexico City

I am not being dramatic when I say the Ackerman’s came closer than imaginable to celebrating Christmas this year as a family of three. I don’t understand why Christopher and I both escaped death.  Perhaps it is not for me to understand, but I am so very thankful for the prayers of hundreds of people and for God’s hand on our lives. We have been blessed beyond comprehension and for that I am grateful.  I will never be able to adequately thank all of my wonderful friends and family for the love and support you have shown us this year.  Your phone calls, text messages, e-mails, cards, gifts and letters, meals, flowers and visits are what have carried us through these challenging times.  One particularly difficult morning during my stay in the hospital, I received an e-mail from my friend Gloria who seems to have an almost eerie knack for appearing in my life when I most need to be encouraged.  Here are the beautiful words she wrote to me:

Paul – 10/10/10 – Chicago Marathon

“The Lord is with you, around you, behind and before you, knowing all of the most intimate of anxieties and fears you hold… I pray that His peace, His grace will lighten your heart as you let time and medicine heal you.  Be well slowly, gradually and patiently, hidden in the shadow of His wing…”

October 2010

My daily encouragement and challenge is to listen to Gloria’s words and embrace them. I will continue to count my blessings every day and treasure all that I hold dear in my life.  I pray that your Christmas is filled with joy and peace and that you remember the reason we celebrate; that Christ came to earth to give us the gift of life abundant… peace and contentment that cannot be explained… this new life is abundance, and this is true life.

Merry Christmas! 

With love, Laura 

“These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace.  In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.”  John 16.33