A Christmas Story of Resilience

 

This is a story about Sue—a woman of extraordinary resilience, grounded in the essentials: fresh food and water, daily walks in the sun, faith, hard work, and simplicity. Sue’s story is remarkable not just for her survival, but for the quiet dignity and strength she offers her community.

Sue is just under five feet tall, slightly hunched, with long, wild, gray-and-white-streaked hair and no teeth. She probably weighs less than a hundred pounds. She lost an eye long ago to a rosebush thorn she never treated, and her damaged eye simply disappeared. At seventy-five, Sue rarely speaks. She sometimes mutters to herself or argues with invisible companions, but surprises those who know her with her sharp understanding of the world around her.

Sue has lived on the fringes for decades. Her family moved north years ago, but Sue chose to stay, living in the woods, by creeks, or in sheds generously offered by neighbors. For over forty-six years, Sue quietly cared for the gardens and lawns of our rural neighborhood—tending vegetables, flowers, and fruit trees. She worked steadily six days a week, resting only on Sundays. Work was her purpose, her connection to nature, and her way of feeling like she belonged. I’ve known Sue for twenty-three years; to many, she’s been a helper, a caretaker, a member of our community, even without a home.

Last March, tragedy struck. Sue was hit by a car and thrown into a ditch on a long stretch of a country road. A passerby recognized her and called 911. She was rushed to a hospital, then airlifted to a trauma center: concussion, a shattered hip, and a cracked spine. For a while, Sue was only dimly aware of her surroundings. When she woke from surgery, the first words she managed were, “What about my jobs? Is anyone taking my jobs from me?”

While Sue was confined to the hospital, the person who’d let her stay in their shed packed up her basic and meager belongings and let others know she could no longer accommodate her. Sue had nowhere to return to. Despite this, she never complained. She followed every instruction, endured being poked and prodded, and tried to relearn basic skills—walking, bathing, getting dressed. A simple goal drove her: to return, somehow, to the work and place she loved.

Near the end of her hospital stay, nurses asked Sue where she would live. Her answer was steadfast: “I’ll be well enough to walk. I am going home.” She was ready to trek forty-two miles on her own, injured as she was.

Finding a safe place for Sue was no easy feat. Some neighbors worried about her injuries; others felt unsure how to care for her. Just days before her discharge, a local farmer offered an old trailer. Community members rallied and found blankets, towels, groceries, eggs, and a patch of land for her new home. By the time she left the trauma center after sixteen days, everything was ready. Sue, persistent and grateful, could walk again with help. She rode home, clutching a small bag of discharge gifts from a very generous hospital, her eyes fixed on the passing fields.

Over the months that followed, Sue began to heal. Her body, though battered, slowly regained strength. Neighbors made biscuits and casseroles, and donations were dropped off until she had what she needed. Sue worked to make the walk to her favorite nearby park, where she’d rest in the sunshine, ever so grateful to be back where she started. Her days grew longer as her health returned, yet pain and discomfort remained. Her spine ached, and her work hours—once sunrise to sundown—were halved. After lunch, she napped beneath a favorite tree and listened to the town’s familiar rhythms.

By December, nearly nine months after her accident, Sue had made remarkable progress. Her simple trailer—now lined with blankets, personal belongings, food, a coffee pot, and a clock—became her sanctuary. The community was eager to help and often brought her food and cash. As the holidays approached, Sue continued to work light days and spent more time in her beloved park.

As Christmas lights illuminated the neighborhood, Sue’s daily routines—her healthy meals, regular walks, and selfless acts—were seen as quiet gifts that enriched everyone around her. Her steady resilience and kindness became a guiding light during the holidays, reminding neighbors of the season's deeper meaning. Through Sue, the community rediscovered how small acts of care and a steadfast spirit can bring lasting warmth and unity, embodying the true heart of Christmas every year.