When the most wonderful time of year . . . isn’t
December 24, 2018
A few weeks ago, I listened to my boss, Dr. Brian Williams, give a speech on resilience to a group of people attending a holiday luncheon. He ended the luncheon by reminding those in attendance, that the holidays can be difficult for those who are sad or suffering, and he encouraged us to be thoughtful and sensitive to that fact.
Dr. Williams’ words struck a chord with me. The holiday season used to be my favorite time of the year, but now more often than not, I feel melancholy rather than joyful during this time of year. My father and nephew both died before the holidays. While it has been 20 and nine years, respectively, since their deaths, I still feel the loss. I know that my family members do, as well. I’m sure the same is true for my stepfather and his children who lost their wife and mother just weeks after my dad died. While our families have experienced happiness again, the holidays are a reminder that there is always someone missing from the table.
I know my feelings mirror those of other friends. Recently, one of my friends lost her father after a brief battle with cancer. Another friend just learned that her husband’s cancer has returned. Last year, good friends of mine lost their son to brain cancer. We just learned that a woman who has served the members of our outing club suffered a cardiac arrest and died. I have friends who have lost spouses. And, it’s not just death that affects us. I have friends who are in the process of divorcing. I have many hardworking friends who have dedicated their careers to public service, and who will now be negatively impacted by the government shutdown.
I have witnessed evil and misunderstanding in the name of Christianity directed at my friends, and I have felt the effects when it was directed at my family. Sometimes, it’s hard to be positive when so much feels broken.
Ironically, I’m finding the strength to build my “resilience toolbox” in a place that seems to have cultivated the misunderstanding.
Yesterday, I went to church and listened as the pastor compared Joseph and Mary fleeing Israel to Egypt after the birth of Jesus to the current day refugees fleeing violence in their countries. Along with the congregation, I read the following words during the lighting of the fourth Advent candle.
“Today we remember Joseph, worn-out traveler and worried husband, doing what was necessary for the sake of his family, the burden of poverty stifling his hope in the promise of God. There was no room for him, yet he knows to whom he belongs.
Today we give thanks for the Josephs among us, migrating far from home when there is no choice, fiercely devoted to the ones they love, unwavering in their belief that there is room for all in the kingdom of God.”
I watched as an unkempt woman with pink hair and multiple tattoos, who is possibly homeless, dug in her pockets and placed coins in the offering plate. I watched the pastor hug the woman after the service. And, I was reminded about grace and understanding.
It is gestures such as those I witnessed at church that I am able to see the gift of understanding that has been bestowed on my family, sometimes among unlikely sources. And, as always, I’m forever indebted to the friends who continue to gift me with unconditional love. I want to be that person for them. As my friend, Eric Littleton has said, I want “to be the sermon.”
Whatever your beliefs or however you celebrate the holiday season, I wish you peace and understanding.
