For when it's a bittersweet Christmas

if you're struggling, maybe it will help to know that you're not alone

A few days ago, my youngest daughter shared a snapshot of her beautiful Christmas tree, covered with the ornaments Mom had oh so carefully selected and sent to her sweet little great-grandchildren over the years.

The tree was lovely, so perfectly decorated. My first reaction was how thrilled Mom would be and how delighted I was that these special gifts were being honored and treasured. But within the hour I couldn’t help but notice and pay attention to that old familiar yearning for her, a deep ache growing somewhere inside me, filling me up yet again, causing my eyes to brim.

So many of us are missing those we’ve loved and lost … not only in recent years, but yes, many seasons ago. Along the way, you’ve shared how the deaths of beloved ones have hit you so hard … and also how other relationships you once held dear have morphed into something distinctly disappointing, frightening, or completely non-existent.

You find yourself feeling betrayed, isolated, excluded, or abandoned … even when you’re surrounded by people.

We lament many things. Not only death and estrangement, but the impact of illness to body or mind. Job loss, sudden or a long time coming. The move from a cherished home. Financial upheaval. Leaving a beloved church family. Disappointments and frustrations and dreams that have morphed into lingering nightmares that never quite seem to go away. Life seems unfair and unkind … and truth be told God often feels, well, rather distant.

Loss and grief take many forms. Life-altering situations and difficult transitions leave us reeling with exhaustion and numb with sorrow. They beg to be named, acknowledged, and honored. And rightly so.

If in this holiday season, you find that there’s is no well-appointed table and the fondly remembered delectables are few and far between. Or the once intact family is sparsely represented and you’re lucky if there's a pot of soup in sight and the fine accouterments that once decorated the feasting place are gathering dust in some closet somewhere. If the kids are grown and gone (in more ways than one) and no carols play in the background and you’re lucky if there's one other hand to hold, know this to be true:

That the sweet, adored, long-expected baby Jesus grew up to be ‘despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief’ (Isaiah 53:3).

In the bittersweet seasons, He truly gets where we’re coming from. He’s not surprised or alarmed. In fact He is very much tenderly present in our times of loneliness and despondency. Especially when those around us don’t have a clue.

He reminds us that we’re in good company with Him. And as always, that joy and sorrow, laughter and tears, hope and the promises of His Word co-mingle oh so well together.

Happy Birthday, dear Jesus. Come quickly. We long for your glorious appearance.
Linda

Friends, if you’re struggling, I hope you’ll feel comfortable in sharing your story with other kindred spirits here. Trust me, you’re not alone.