Merry Christmas to all! While the traditional holiday cards didn’t make it out of our house this year, I want to extend a heartfelt thank you to everyone who sent one our way. Each card is a cherished memory and a reminder of the beautiful community we share.

I’ve been reflecting on how much the “rhythm” of my Christmas has changed. Since assuming a new position, it’s been years since I rounded in the hospital on Christmas Day. But for so much of my life—starting back in residency—the hospital was exactly where I was meant to be.

I’ll never forget my first Christmas on call as an intern. The nurses told me it was the busiest month they’d ever had, but it was one of the most enjoyable. I couldn’t go home, so I spent Christmas on call. There is a unique, profound atmosphere when you share Christmas with people at such a vulnerable time in their lives. You often have to share diagnoses that are upsetting not only to the patients but to their families.

It was in those quiet rooms that I learned my most important lesson as a physician: to treat my patients exactly as I would want my own family members to be treated. Sometimes the best medicine is sitting at the bedside, holding a hand, and in some instances, praying with them.

As I moved into private practice, the goal was always the “Christmas Sprint.” I would round as early as possible, heart set on getting home in time for Christmas breakfast—waffles or pancakes and sausage with my husband and children. Watching the kids open presents, often with my mother-in-law nearby, remains a highlight of my life.

Eventually, our move to Chattanooga opened the door for us to return to Birmingham for the holidays. Those years were a feast of reminiscence. I can still taste the “post-dinner” tradition: piled in the car, driving to my aunts’ homes for a rotating buffet of sweets—sweet potato pie, sour cream poundcake, lemon cake, and my mother’s signature coconut cake.

I realize now that my heart for service started long before medical school. I watched my stepfather and my mother ensure our elderly church members had a seat at our table. For those who couldn’t make it out, we turned our kitchen into a production line, preparing and delivering meals to their front doors. It would hold up our dinner, but we did it for years.

This year, Christmas is a little quieter. I am learning to enjoy the stillness—the time to stay home with family and make those long, winding phone calls to my sisters, my friends, and especially my mother. I am making plans to recreate a tradition. We are going to Baltimore on Saturday. I am making a Black Walnut layer cake for my husband’s cousins. I have not baked in years, but I have a great recipe and all the ingredients. I am up for the challenge.

In these turbulent times, taking a moment to reflect isn’t just a luxury; it’s a necessity. It’s a time to remember that whether we are holding a hand in a hospital bed or sharing a slice of cake in a crowded kitchen, the love we give is the only thing that truly lasts.

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” — John 1:14

Happy Holidays!