In the stress and mess of Christmas, find the magic.

The holiday had started off so perfectly.

My sister, Theresa, came to town and we drove to Little Italy where everyone in Cleveland and his brother were buying pignoli and pizzelles at Presti's.

It was a party scene with people high fiving and hugging. We were there to pick up cannoli for a family friend who was in hospice. We knew Dodie liked cannoli, so it was worth the wait. The cashier called out No. 6; we were No. 35, but patience is what advent is about, waiting in joyful hope.

Then we drove to the hospice in Ravenna singing carols on the way. I had slowed down on State Route 14 after seeing brake lights when a little voice inside, or maybe a little Christmas angel, said, "Look up."

In the rear view mirror, I saw a car barreling toward us. I hit the gas to create a little more space before it hit.

The car slammed into us at 45 mph. The driver never braked. We both skidded across the highway. It was a Christmas miracle no one was coming in the other lane, and that no one was hurt, just our cars.

As a state patrol officer ticketed him and called for tow trucks, I called my insurance company. They couldn't get me a ride or a car. There was no Uber that late in the day in Ravenna on Christmas Eve.

How would we get home?

My husband, who was home recovering from surgery, wasn't allowed to drive. I called my brother in Ravenna. He picked us up and drove us to visit Dodie, his mother-in-law.

And what about the cannoli?

When a lovely stranger named Margi had pulled over to see if we were safe, my sister gave her the cannoli and asked her to drop it off at the hospice in case we didn't get there.

We arrived but it seemed the cannoli hadn't.

Dodie was pure joy. We laughed about the missing cannoli, then it hit me: That kind stranger wouldn't have kept our cannoli. So I went down to the front desk, and asked, "I know this is a strange question, but did anyone drop off any cannoli?"

Yes. We found it at a nursing station. Dodie got her last Christmas cannoli.

Hours later, my brother offered to drive me back to Cleveland when my daughter called crying. It was 9 p.m. and her youngest, River, who was 2, wouldn't sleep and was screaming like a banshee. When I told my daughter about my crash, she hopped in the car and brought River along for the ride.

On the drive home, I held River's tiny hand as we looked at all the Christmas lights. She had never been outside this late to even see stars.

On Christmas Day, we usually go to the grandkids, but my husband was still recovering and the grandkids needed naps, so they didn't come over until late in the day.

And I had my mom all day. A sibling who had offered to help with her changed plans. If you love a parent with Alzheimer's, you know that sometimes it's a joy to be around them and sometimes, well, you know.

Halfway through Christmas I sat down and cried. This wasn't how Christmas was supposed to be.

Oh, it got worse. My sister ended up in the emergency room after experiencing concussion symptoms from our car crash.

So, I did the best I could. I did what my Mom did with her 11 kids. We played Christmas carols. We watched "White Christmas," "It's a wonderful Life" and "Miracle on 34th Street." She soaked up the twinkle lights on the tree and raved about how it was the best Christmas ever. 

I didn't know it would be her last Christmas ever.

Christmas can be messy. But there is so much magic in the mess.

My mom gave me one of the best gifts, one I will open every single Christmas.

My mom gave me her love of Christmas.

She played carols all through December, mostly Perry Como, Andy Williams and Mitch Miller, but she is the reason I know the words to every Christmas carol.

She watched every Christmas show, from Frosty to Charlie Brown, which is why I don't miss a single one of them.

She baked endless cookies, which is why I binge bake batch after batch.

She picked out special gifts for all 11 of us every year. The last gift she ever gave me, that last Christmas Day, was her presence. Her complete presence, all day long, and I gave her mine.

I didn't realize what a great gift that was until she died a year later in November of 2016, and I would never have another Christmas with her.

This year, whatever happens on Christmas, or whatever doesn't happen, trust it is the perfect gift.

It just might take a long time to receive it.