Since 1984, every Christmas has been filled with my children. What specific thing do they want? What can we do together that inspires that particular warm, happy Christmas feeling? Cookies? Let's make 20 dozen! Look at Christmas lights? I've got the sound track for that (Charlie Brown Christmas). Of course, there's the Christmas carols on Christmas Eve. Reading the story from the book of Luke. Fudge and cheese dip and monkey brains to snack on. Kids sleeping with their aunt under the Christmas tree.
And now...
Not only is the number of children wrong, but the location is as well. There's my Andrew and Emily in another state from me. What is the point of Christmas without them?
I'll tell you what it is: it is the celebration of the birth of Jesus. It is about going on with life and making new memories. It's about being grateful for the blessings of God in my life. There's my husband, who is so wonderful, and funny and loves me so much. There's new friends who bring so much joy to my life. There's the evidence of God's faithfulness all around me.
I could legitimately dread this holiday. I could, you know. I have that right as a bereaved mother. I battle with that. But my God is enough. To hold on to that pain and use it as excuse to retreat emotionally is to deny the love of God for me.
Does that mean I don't miss with every breath my beautiful children? No. I'm always going to do that. It means that God's help is bigger.
