A Note from Bruce Main:
This week’s Advent reflection comes from Calvin Carthan , our Principal at UrbanPromise Academy. Calvin joined our team in 2022 after 20-years with the Greater Philadelphia YMCA. With a deep love for young people, he saw UrbanPromise as a place where he could express his faith more directly while working closely with students and families. I hope you enjoy his reflection this week.
The Christmas morning I spent alone in the hospital was nothing like the scenes I had grown up experiencing.
At 25 years old, a blockage in my small intestine required emergency surgery and landed me in the hospital for 10 days; day 7 was Christmas. There were no sounds of family laughter, no rustling of wrapping paper, no aroma of breakfast cooking, not even the melodic voice of Luther Vandross drifting through the house. Instead, I woke to the hum of machines, the distant footsteps of nurses, and the stillness of a room that held only me.
On a day filled with emotional expectations, I confronted a kind of loneliness I had never quite felt before. Though I knew my family was coming to see me that evening, I felt lonely, forgotten, and sad because my world was moving forward without me.
Then, as I lay there, I sensed a gentle reminder settling over my spirit: joy is not based on circumstance. On that Christmas morning, I realized that God was inviting me to choose joy in a way I had never had to choose it before.
In a quiet room, stripped of all the usual holiday sounds, I felt God’s presence in a deeply personal way. It was as if He whispered, “I am with you. Even here. Especially here.”
Choosing joy while lying in a hospital bed was not about pretending everything was fine. It was about trusting that His light could reach even this place. It was believing that Emmanuel, “God with us,” really meant God was with me — especially in my weakness, in my uncertainty, and in my solitude.
The complexities of life, especially during the holiday season, can make the notion of choosing joy seem impossible.
Here are two practices that helped me:
1. Find gratitude, even in the small things.
That morning taught me about gratitude in a new way. I found myself thanking God for breath, for life, for healing in progress, and for strength I didn’t know I had. Gratitude didn’t erase the hardship, but it made room for joy to grow. And the more I embraced that joy, the more my spirit lifted.
2. Find community.
I eventually realized that I wasn’t alone. The staff working that day and the volunteers donating their time, sacrificing their own Christmas mornings, felt like angels in plain sight. Their presence reminded me that God often uses people to show His love. A simple “Merry Christmas” exchanged with a nurse became a moment of connection, a quiet reminder that God weaves community even in unexpected places.
I want to encourage you to find community. If it feels like you don’t have it, you can find it through volunteer opportunities, participating in community events, attending church services, or connecting with neighbors.
Looking back, that Christmas morning shaped me. It taught me that God’s presence is not limited to decorated rooms or festive gatherings — He can reach us in the ugliest places. I am now content knowing that sometimes the holiest moments happen in the most unlikely places.
That morning didn’t offer the Christmas I wanted, but it gave me the Christmas I needed: one where joy wasn’t received, but chosen.
May you find joy this season,
Calvin Carthan
Principal, UrbanPromise Academy
P.S. Around 5 p.m., I could hear my family clamoring in the hall, on their way to see me. The once-sterile room came alive. We laughed, we danced (I even managed to join in, though post-surgery I had to hold back on some of my best moves), and we sang. Even the nurses joined in our Christmas fun. A Christmas morning that started in solitude ended in the togetherness of the Christmas spirit.