Dec 24, 2025
If you’re reading this on Christmas Eve, there’s a good chance you’re surrounded by the people you love, wrapped in the warmth of tradition and the hope that defines this season. In my family, this year, hope has a new name, and it doesn’t just belong to a holiday. It belongs to a person.
His name is Joseph, my nephew. He’s facing a terminal prognosis with a courage and a smile that constantly redefines what we think is possible. Of course, our hearts are heavy, but Joseph’s spirit is anything but. In a situation that could easily be defined by fear and sadness, he has made a conscious choice to focus on joy and connection. It’s a lesson in mental strength that has humbled all of us. He teaches us, daily, to find the light.
Recently, thanks to the incredible folks at Make-A-Wish New Hampshire, Joseph was able to make a pilgrimage to Italy and Vatican City. His biggest dream? To be blessed by the Pope.
As any parent or aunt knows, getting a personal audience with the Pope isn't like getting a backstage pass. It’s a long shot, a prayer sent into the void. My sister had letters from their pastor and oncologists, a compelling case built on love and urgency. But in a sea of thousands, how does one wish rise to the top?
This is where our story takes a turn that feels less like luck and more like a little Christmas magic.
Enter our friend, Howard Bernstein. Howard isn’t a magician; he’s a lawyer. But he possesses a modern-day superpower: he is a human connector. You know the theory of six degrees of separation? For Howard, it’s usually one. My husband once mused that the only rock legend he hadn’t seen was Bruce Springsteen. Without missing a beat, Howard pulled out a picture of his daughter and The Boss, working out at the same gym in New Jersey.
So, when faced with the seemingly impossible task of reaching the Pope, we turned to Howard. In times of hardship, you learn to lean on your community. It’s not a sign of weakness, but a strategy for survival. He went to school with someone who is now high up in a Florida diocese. He wrote to his classmate, who, as it turns out, knows the personal secretary to the Pope. That chain of connection—friend to friend to friend—allowed a personal letter to be placed directly in front of the Holy Father.
The wish was granted.
The journey to that moment wasn't easy. My sister described the long wait in the freezing cold Roman dawn, pilgrims pressing in, patience wearing thin. But then, a woman was assigned just to them. They were guided through the crowds, allowed to cross barrier after barrier, moving closer and closer to the papal canopy.
They were seated in the "front row."
My sister wrote: “I was stunned where ushers seated us... I believe the letter from the Pope’s delegate sealed the decision. From the bottom of my heart, thank you... for giving us this most precious gift.”
And in that moment, under a cold Roman sky that felt anything but cold, Joseph received his blessing.
I’ve included a picture of that moment at the top of this article. In it, you’ll see the Pope, and you’ll see my nephew, Joseph. But what you’re really seeing is a testament to the power of a community that refuses to give up. And that gift was more than a photo opportunity. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated joy. It was a memory so bright and powerful that it pushes back against the shadows of grief and worry. For a day, it wasn’t about illness; it was about being seen, chosen, and blessed. The mental and emotional lift that gives a family is immeasurable.
This Christmas, Joseph’s story is our gift to you. It’s a reminder that in a world that can often feel disconnected and cold, the warmest connections are still human. That the “how” is often just as important as the “what.” That angels don’t always have wings; sometimes, they have a law degree and a really, really good address book.
But more than anything, it’s a story about hope. Not the kind of hope that sits and waits, but the kind that acts. The kind that makes a call, writes a letter, or offers a hand. It’s the hope that connects us all, one person to the next, creating a tapestry of love strong enough to hold up a family, and brave enough to reach all the way to the Vatican.
From our family to yours, may your holiday be filled with the same kind of tangible, connective, and miraculous hope. Merry Christmas.
A Note from the Family:
We have been deeply moved by those who have asked if there is a way to offer support for Joseph’s ongoing care. For those who feel moved to do so, we have set up a GoFundMe to help with medical and family expenses during this time. Your love and prayers remain the greatest gift of all.
You can access the GoFundMe page for Joseph here.