By Krista Ralston Oakes
Ten days before Christmas, the doctor somberly lowered the boom. I was diagnosed with grade IV cancer, with a typical prognosis measured in months.
Our daughter was not yet six months old. Our son was four years old. Our family was reeling with a difficult new reality at a time when we would typically be caught up in parties and gatherings and shopping and giving. How could something like this happen and ruin Christmas?
It didn’t ruin Christmas. To us, it re-emphasized Christmas.
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life (John 3:16).”
Although we faced an uncertain future, we were surrounded by reminders of the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ. His birth and his life were the reasons we could face anything that mortality could do to our family. We became more keenly aware of the significance of his life as the greatest gift that our Heavenly Father could give to us.
The humility of the nativity scene was a reminder that Jesus would not only be born in humble circumstances, but that he would live in humble circumstances throughout his life. He would bear our griefs (Isaiah 53:4). He would go forth, “suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people. And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities” (Alma 7:11-12).
Because of Christmas, we have a Savior who understands our needs. He knows perfectly how to succor us in our infirmities. He has championed everything that can stand in the way of the eventual realization of our highest potential.
Christmas became the perfect setting for receiving a new trial in our lives, because we had the opportunity to receive the King who saves us from any trial we may face, even unto death.
Last year, during a Christmas Day visit to a nursing home, we met a resident named Joy. When we approached the nursing station and asked who needed a visitor, her name came up first. She was lying in her bed, looking very sad and alone. She had had no visitors that day. She didn’t speak often, and when she did it was hard to hear. She said that it hadn’t been a very good day for her, and she just wanted to lie still and be quiet. When we suggested a song, she consented. And then she brightened as we took the cue from her name and started with “Joy to the World.” Tears came down her face as we sang the song. Other residents came by her door and joined with us in our singing. By the time we finished our visit, Joy was smiling and radiant and talkative. I felt that together we felt the spirit and the significance of the words, “Let earth receive her King!”
No matter what circumstances we face, Jesus has been given to us as the greatest gift of love, and there are many ways we can receive Him. We can receive his healing, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual. We can receive His word and live according to it. We can receive His promises and trust in them.
We can receive His spirit and discover peace. We can receive His goodness and share it with others by doing good works. We can receive all things with gratitude and see our blessings multiply. As we do this, we not only receive our King, but we find ways to be more like Him throughout the year.
Five years after my original cancer diagnosis, I am alive far beyond medical expectations. However, a period of remission recently gave way to cancer recurrence and further treatments. Once again we have our eye on the calendar exactly ten days before this Christmas, when medical tests will determine whether these treatments have been effective. Once again, regardless of the outcome, we will have reasons to celebrate this Christmas as we focus on receiving our King.









