The elderly woman we had been taking care of in the ICU looked younger than her stated age. But her medical history on paper was more consistent with her 79 years…the heart failure, the diabetes, the chronic lung disease. She managed to fight for three days before the exhaustion from the work of her breathing overcame her and she had to have a breathing tube placed. She spent the first night anxious and breathing rapidly. She sent her heart rate into an irregular and uncontrolled frenzy. She was given medication after medication to calm her. The lights and alarms on the ventilator signaled her frustration…with red lines and chirps…she was “fighting” the vent. The following morning, before formal rounds, my astute resident and his experienced fellow made some changes to the machine. By the time I saw her, she was calm. Sleeping. Stable. Her heart rate controlled. Her daughter content at her bedside. “She’s finally in sync with the vent,” my resident told me. Her respirations less labored, her lungs now filled with oxygen…she is breathing with us. She is peaceful.

Children can get so upset, so frustrated over the littlest things. And mine are no exception. As adults, we can talk ourselves out of hyperventilation mode in the midst of a crazy situation. But when you are six years old, you don’t yet have that skill. So sometimes, when one of my little boys are especially troubled, with gasping and tears and screaming, I will sit with them, hold them, and say, “Breathe with me.” We take a long, deep breath in…. and take our time letting it back out. And we do it again. And again. Until we are breathing together. And we are quiet. And calm. And, finally, peaceful.

Over the last couple of days, I have found out a dear friend has cancer. And she is way too young for this. In my own family, there is the stress and fatigue of jobs that are all together wonderful, but emotionally exhausting. I know of loss both near to me, in my old hometown, and around the world. The conversations go on about politics, race, religion, the economy. We are all putting up Christmas trees and frantically buying presents, trusting that if we spend more, try harder, that we will feel joy, but deep in our hearts, we feel a twinge of hopelessness. And all of this is happening now…in this precious season of celebration. The celebration of the birth of the One who came to live with us. To teach us. To bring us hope. To literally breathe with us. Jesus came down from the heavens, from the safety of his cozy chair on the right hand side of His Daddy, to live among our messiness. To listen to our stories and to interject in our lives. To physically breathe our dirty air. And to take our hand and say, “Precious one, calm down. I got you. Slow down. Breathe with me.” And be peaceful.

Disclaimer: My viewpoints are not necessarily reflective of my employer, or any local, regional or national organization that I belong to. As a matter of fact, I pretty much just speak for myself. Please keep that in mind.