Merry Christmas!

No, I haven’t lost my mind. (Completely.)

I know that the calendar tells me it’s Feb. 14 … Valentine’s Day.

And if, by chance, you happen to be reading this column, it will already be Feb. 15, even though the newspaper indicates at the top of the page that it is Feb. 16.

Are you still with me?

OK. Good.

Anyway, the reason I am wishing you a Merry Christmas is because my youngest son, Noah, will be coming home from Poland this week.

As I have mentioned a time or two before … actually, more like three or four times before … that upon his return, my family and I will finally have the chance to celebrate the holidays with him.

This was the first time in his 27 years he had spent Christmas without us.

This was the first time in 27 years that we had to get through Christmas without him.

And it was different.

So very different.

The holidays were pleasurable enough — Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

But that is only because of my mother.

I wasn’t able to get anybody a gift except for my grandson, Layne, and mom. Hers was the name I drew in our gift exchange, which was something new we decided to try. We didn’t care for that at all.

But of course, my mother did not stick to the “pick a name and buy for that person only” deal, because my mom has always, and I mean always, done her absolute best to make sure Dec. 24 and 25 are as special as possible for everyone … despite it being a struggle.

But that is what mothers do. Isn’t it?

Mothers always do their best for their children. At least in my case it’s true.

Everything a mother does isn’t something she is told to do.

It isn’t anything that is etched in stone or found within a passage of the Holy Bible.

A mom is not required to go out of her way to ensure that her children, her grandchildren, her great-grandchildren and all of their significant and not-so significant others, have packages to open Christmas morning.

It isn’t mandatory that a mother create a menu, go shopping and purchase groceries, and then prep, slice, dice, peel and cook that food. She doesn’t have to bake a variety of cookies and desserts.

It isn’t her job to serve her family that Christmas Eve dinner, only to turn around and do it all again the next day for Christmas dinner.

There is no such legality that states a mother has to configure a game for her family to play on Christmas Eve that involves lottery tickets and a prize.

How many mothers invite Santa Claus to their house on Christmas Eve, knowing he will show up at her front door in his very best suit and carrying a sack of gifts for the little ones?

These are all things my mom does in the hope that it will bring her family joy. Not just in that moment, but as a memory that will last us a lifetime.

Everything she does is out of love.

None of it is a necessity. These are merely gestures she feels she needs to do every year for the sake of her family.

So, naturally, our 2024 holiday season was indeed, enjoyable. And again, appreciated.

Although I’m sure I speak for my entire family when I say there was still something missing.

Or rather, someone missing.

And that made our Christmas not quite as special as it usually is.

Now, when I say “special,” I mean that feeling you get when you wake up Christmas morning and snow has covered the ground, a pile of presents hold your name underneath that beautifully-lit tree and all your loved ones surround you.

That feeling.

I have been waiting not just a year, but a year and two months to have that feeling again.

And I truly thought that perhaps we all would be able to feel that “specialness” later this week.

When Christmas came for the rest of the world, there wasn’t any snow on the ground at my house.

I did not have one present placed underneath my tree. And we were missing our Noah to surround us.

Now, it is finally time. And am I ready? Not at all.

You would think I’d have purchased a closet full of presents, each carefully wrapped and adorned with a ribbon and gift tag.

You would think there would be dozens of homemade cookies tucked away in the freezer and a shopping list containing any last-minute groceries that need purchasing on the refrigerator door.

You would think I would have lain on the counter recipes for the Christmas Eve meal and traditional family breakfast that will need preparing.

You would think.

I have none of these tasks done — not one of them completed. Not one of them begun.

I assumed that given a few months extension, I would have had more of an opportunity to get my act together, and have my finances in order.

I thought wrong. Again.

However, in my favor, originally I was told Noah would be coming home in March.

He later informed me it would be more like April.

Last week, he sent a group text to the family saying he is coming back on Thursday.

Needless-to-say, I was elated and anxious at the same time.

The thought of seeing his handsome face and getting to physically put my arms around him, makes me impatient and wishing that next week would hurry up and arrive.

But then the thought of seeing the disappointment on his handsome face and realizing the emotional pain he will feel upon realizing that yet again, I cannot keep my promise of Christmas makes me wish that next week would take its good old time getting here.

So now, my blood pressure’s up. My sleep pattern’s off. My nerves are frayed. My stomach’s sick.

Not only did I fail Christmas on Dec. 25, I have failed Christmas February 20.

How many people can say they ruined the same holiday twice in one year?

Keep reading my column and I’ll show you.

Despite everything, I am still praying for that miracle. But I have less than a week for one to happen.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, I know full-well we are not supposed to pray for money, as money is “the root of all evil.”

Side note of no importance what-so-ever: I thought it was spelled “route” instead of “root.”

But it makes sense if you think about it. (End side note.)

But I have seen miracles happen a few times in my life and I am just trying to find one more.

You might be asking yourself “Why does she care so much about this?”

Maybe it’s because it had to be hard for him to spend the holidays alone, alone and 4,500 miles away from the people who love him most.

He’s having to live outdoors in a tent with the modest of belongings.

There’s no turkey dinner.

There’s no television to watch “It’s A Wonderful Life.”

There are no presents to unwrap.

There’s no one to hug him.

It breaks my heart that a 27-year-old boy would have to go through that on Christmas Day.

And, as a mother who hasn’t even had Christmas yet for her family, that breaks my heart even more.

I can definitely live with my own heart breaking.

I could never live with the breaking of theirs.

But Christmas-time is about miracles, right?

So, who knows?

Maybe I will get mine after all.

To be continued …

Until then, I wish my family a Merry Christmas.

And for everyone else who is working on February, I wish you a Happy Presidents Day.

(Stenger is the community editor of the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at jstenger@heraldstaronline.com.)