Christmas Eve in Kandahar

The past 48 hours have brought any number of reminders of how often things can go dramatically wrong for people in this war, be they soldiers or civilians. I think of my kids and the building excitement for them as Christmas is hours away. Then I think of what I'm doing and seeing over here. Two different worlds. I'm glad they are safe with Ruth. OK, I told Ruth I would be more upbeat in this posting…so here goes.

A favorite quote by Albert Einstein: “You can live your life in two ways: As if everything is a miracle or nothing is a miracle. ” I first came across this quote when Ruth was pregnant with Jonah and we were dealing with some abnormal lab tests/ultrasound and the very real chance that Jonah might have a terminal congenital condition. Jonah, as you know, is fine and I'll take that miracle.

I look at our two wonderful kids, Naomi and Jonah, and relish in their enjoyment of life and all it's miracles. They know I like birds, so they take pleasure in pointing out birds to me. I saw a great blue heron fly across the runway at Kandahar a couple of weeks ago. My first thought was of the kids and how they would know exactly what it was and my enjoyment at seeing the bird was made special by the brief connection I felt with them over the miles. I saw a little yellow flower growing in this very dusty, bleak place and knew that if Naomi saw it, she would want to pick it and give it to Ruth. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, I guess this is just my way of trying to stay connected with the kids over the miles. For those with kids - watch them grow and learn and tell me it's not a miracle. OK, I know, sometimes it's a miracle that we don't sell them off...but that's still a miracle!

So, here I am in the middle of a war, trying to see the miracles in everyday life. From a medical standpoint I offer up two numbers. In the current conflicts, the survival rate of wounded in action is just shy of 90%. In World War II, the survival rate of wounded in action was just shy of 70%. Many, many injured soldiers and civilians are alive because of the miracles worked by their fellow soldiers, medics, techs, nurses and doctors.

In the Battle of Flanders in the winter of 1914, the allies and the Germans had an impromptu truce on Christmas Eve. They exchanged gifts, sang songs, buried their dead, and briefly put aside the horror around them. That won't happen here, but I can hope and pray that we're able to continue to do our part in this war by creating miracles with the patients that we see.

On this side of the world, it's only a couple of hours until we celebrate the miracle of Christmas. My hope is that you and your family have a wonderful Christmas. Celebrate it with laughter. Celebrate it with egg nog. Celebrate it with gifts. Celebrate it by remembering the miracle that happened over 2000 years ago in Bethlehem. Hug and kiss your family and friends. If you see my kids, give them a hug and kiss for me. Let them know that Daddy is doing something important and misses them. And it goes without saying, I miss Ruth.