The turn of this century proved to be a very difficult time for me. I had gotten married in May and by November my wife and two of her children moved out back to Denver where they had lived the preceding years.
She moved away from our home in Illinois so she could be nearer to her 13 year old son who lived with his father. Previous to that we had decided to remain in Illinois so I could be near my three young children from my first marriage.
My wife was also newly pregnant. And, if that wasn't bad enough with our marriage now in shreds, she suffered a miscarriage while we were packing up the house for her move back to Colorado
In an attempt at an rapprochement I called my wife and suggested we spend Christmas together in Colorado. We decided to rent a cabin at the YMCA camp in the mountains outside Estes Park.
My 13 year old son, Andrew, was able to come with me. And so it was we arrived in that quaint little mountain town decked out in a huge splash of Christmas lights on Christmas Eve eager to have a great time celebrating Christ's birth. This was the first occasion where Andrew and my step children would spend significant time together so I was a bit nervous about the whole thing.
My wife and step daughters decorated our cabin with spruce and pine boughs and whipped up a huge delicious Christmas dinner. Afterwards, we opened gifts.
Later, in the cold and windswept iron-dark December night we went ice skating down at the frozen pond shimmering in the moonlight.
That was a blessed time of healing with a rebirth of our marriage. And, although my marriage ended a few years later the Christmas of 2002 will be one I will never forget.
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