Christmas is a special time of the year.

Once a year, young and old have the opportunity to develop a child-like heart, and to give and receive.

Decorations go up; trees are adorned; gifts are purchased and, on Christmas Day, families, small and large, gather.

Since Dec. 24, 2007, Christmas, for me, has remained a quiet time of reflection and gratitude.

Six years ago, this Christmas Eve, I was admitted to the VA hospital in Wilkes-Barre, not knowing if I would live or die, but knowing the next few weeks would be difficult ones.

Like most people, prior to that time, I understood the importance and meaning of Christmas.

I understood the holiday was about sharing, giving, receiving and appreciation.

I further understood, from a Christian perspective, an infant was born 2,000 years ago to take the place of our imperfections, follies and defects so we could live.

However, it wasn't until six years ago I realized I knew nothing.

For the first time in my life, I was physically helpless.

Prior to that date, I considered myself a fairly self-sufficient, strong, adept and confident individual.

Sitting in a hospital bed, on Christmas Eve, with IV's pumping medication into my body and surgery scheduled for the day after Christmas abruptly changed the preconceptions I had of myself and the Christmas season.

On Christmas Day 2007, I recall waking up, disorientated and stumbling to the bathroom, asking myself: "Why me, why, of all times, during Christmas?"

Not long after I returned to bed, a priest came into my room. He introduced himself and simply asked if he could pray for me.

I agreed and the priest bowed his head, shut his eyes, said a few words and placed holy water on my forehead.

After the priest's prayer, came my own prayer for a second chance at life

Although I was baptized as a child, it had been nearly 20 years since I invested any real thought – let alone a passing thought–on dying and life after death.

It was on Christmas Day 2007 I received a crash course on the true meaning of life, living and Christmas.

By the grace of the creator of the universe and excellent nurses and doctors, I made it through the next four weeks in the hospital.

In hindsight, I realize it wasn't my strength that got me through those days and weeks, but a Christmas miracle.

A miracle I recognize and accept more and more with each passing year.

Since then, I have developed an appreciation for the little things in life – beautiful sunset, snow glistening off tree branches, a hot cup of coffee, among many other things.

Yet, there is one thing in particular I have embraced and appreciated far more, and that is life itself.

Life is short. It is fleeting. It is fraught with successes and happiness, along with failures, sadness and pain.

The prospect of death knocking on my door has opened up a journey over the past six years, while difficult and unpredictable, I consider a blessing.

For it was six years ago on Christmas Eve my dark, dead world became brighter, more alive and real.

During this Christmas holiday, I urge you to spend less time on the material aspects of the holiday and a little more time on the history of Christmas and your faith.

See the blessings in your life despite the challenges you may have.

Albert Einstein said, "There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle."

Miracles, I now believe, do occur.

This year, more than ever, I accept and celebrate my Christmas miracle.

And, for those of you seeking a Christmas miracle, I pray you find it.

Mark Reccek

editorial assistant

Whitehall Coplay Press

Northampton Press

Catasauqua Press