All the Tiny Tims

The other day I was watching a cheezy tear-jerker Christmas movie (my favorite kind) on the Hallmark Channel.  It was yet another of the countless versions of "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens. As I watched I realized that no matter what kid they get to play Tiny Tim, I still cry every time he/she sings or says "God bless us everyone!" It's not the kid, mind you, it's the look on the faces of everyone else. It's the look of helplessness, because they know this child they love is in pain, probably dying, and they can do nothing to stop it.

I often write about my frustrations and tribulations with my health, and my experiences in connection with it. It's what I know, and what I deal with everyday. Thinking about the Tiny Tims in the world or more accurately, the ones who love those Tiny Tims, made me realize how blessed I really am. If someone has to be hurting, I'd rather it was me.  What parent with a sick child wouldn't do anything to change places, or give their life in exchange, rather than bare the loss. How many people see their close friends in pain and wish there were something they could do? How many wives have to watch their husbands suffer with cancer,  feeling powerless.  How many lovers must merely watch, as the ones they love die slowly of AIDS.  It's all around.

This season is held up as a wonderful happy time, but for so many...it's not. There's so much I can't do anything about...but hey, I can call someone and let them know I care. I can offer a hug or a listening ear. I can invite someone to dinner, or for coffee. I don't plan to wait for visitations from the Ghosts of Christmas, before I try reaching out.

This season isn't about the gifts we buy, but the gifts we give. It's not our presents, but our presence. 
Happy Holidays Friends! And "God bless us everyone!"

Caren E. Salas

Thank you to Robin Harrison for this photo from "A Christmas Carol" CSUDH