It’s Christmas Day, and I’m thinking about all of you.
Every year, we hurry to shop for gifts, travel by plane and car, and spend hours cooking meals. When we gather, people reminisce about past Christmases. The good, the bad, and the funny.
I have my share of all three.
Like the Christmas I found out about Santa Claus. At age 6, my brothers and I were loaded up in the family car, the kind of classic car where three boys could fit in the backseat. We were getting ready to head to Grandpa and Grandma’s house for Christmas. My parents conveniently said they forgot something and had to go back inside. My older brothers, being the helpful brothers they were, convinced me to go in at just the wrong moment. I saw the toys. I figured it out. That memory still makes me smile. Three brothers. A backseat full of anticipation. The innocence of believing in something magical.
Then there was Christmas Eve 2021, which I describe in my manuscript ‘Still Here: How Faith, Food, and Family Beat Cancer‘. The emergency room was packed with COVID patients. No rooms available. A bed in a hallway. Chemotherapy was hitting me hard. I was nauseated, could not keep anything down. Weak. Uncertain. I spent that Christmas wondering what my future looked like. Wondering if I would see another one.
I remember lying in that hallway, listening to the chaos of a hospital overwhelmed, and feeling completely alone. Cancer has a way of stripping everything down to what matters. In that moment, it wasn’t gifts or meals or decorations. It was faith. It was the faces of my family. It was hoping for one more chance.
And then, God showed up. Not in a dramatic way the world would notice, but in the way He always does, quietly, at just the right moment.
He showed up again this year. June 3rd, my 25th wedding anniversary. The pathology results from my lung biopsy confirmed my cancer had spread. Stage 4. Given months, maybe a year to live. My wife refused to give up. She drove me to a doctor who specialized in natural medicines, healing the body so it could fight cancer, combining medical and natural treatments together. In September 2025, we learned the treatment was working. 50% reduction. Then a December scan showed two nodes of cancer were undetectable. Two others were reduced by another 50%.
This Christmas, I’m still here. Miracles happen.
Four years later. Still fighting. Still believing. Still grateful. I’m grateful for every one of you who has supported me through donations, prayers, messages, and shares. You’ve helped make treatments possible. You’ve lifted my spirits when I needed it most. You are part of why I’m still fighting. When I couldn’t carry the weight alone, you carried it with me. That’s not something I will ever forget.
What I’ve learned through good Christmases and hard ones is this: what makes them special is connecting with people and remembering God. That’s the spirit of Christmas. Miracles happen. Sometimes they’re big. Sometimes they’re small. Sometimes they’re simply waking up to another morning and realizing you’re still here.
For anyone reading this who is in their own hospital hallway right now, whether it’s cancer, loss, loneliness, or fear, I want you to know: don’t give up. Miracles happen at the moments we least expect them. God’s timing is not our timing, but it is always right.
To everyone following my journey, thank you. Merry Christmas. Remember, it’s about people and connecting.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
Wayne