What used to be my favorite time of year has become my least favorite.
I hate saying that. But, it’s true.
No matter how cheery and happy everyone else is, it’s still the worst. I spend most moments in this “out of body” experience state, being present physically, but that’s the end of it. Because in the back of my mind, I’m thinking of all the memories of holidays gone by when my sweet Katie girl was with us. I’m thinking of how she loved the holidays SO much and truly got our family more in the spirit than anyone else. I’m thinking about the excitement and anticipation Katie brought into our house. I’m thinking about the traditions we had as a family, especially on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I’m thinking about how she always made sure she “bought” all of us presents (with our own money, of course) and was even more excited about us unwrapping them than opening her own gifts. I’m thinking about how much she just wanted to spend more and more family time together. I’m thinking about the four of us snuggling up together, watching movies, playing games, and baking cookies together. And, most of all, I’m thinking about how that’s gone.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all about being thankful. I’m all about celebrating the birth of Jesus. But, I’m so done with the hype. The hype, the hustle and bustle, all the things …….. they only make me feel lonely, probably because so many of them remind me of Katie. I’m fine with less and less each year. Even though I’m surrounded by family and friends, I feel more lonely. Not lonely in a physical sense, of course, but lonely in a sense of not fitting in anymore.
I’m different now. I don’t feel the same things I used to. While those around me celebrate, and I try so desperately to do the same, I am still filled with this chasm in my soul called loss. A loss that can’t be filled in this lifetime. A loss I deal with daily. The holidays only remind me more of the loss. They remind me more that my girl isn’t here to celebrate with me. They remind me that she never will be. And, that makes me sad.
I’m okay with being sad. It’s part of life now. It doesn’t bother me anymore. I just don’t want it to bother everyone else. It’s exhausting not being sad when I want to be. That’s one of the hard things about grief. If I’m sad, it’ll make you sad, and I don’t want that. So, I hide my sadness for those moments where it doesn’t affect anyone else. It’s a natural reaction, I’m sure.
The sadness crashes over me sometimes. I ride the waves. Eventually, they will subside until the next time.
I ask Jesus to fill the hole left by losing her.
But, I realize it’s not meant to be filled. Loss means just that … LOSS. It’s something you’ll never get back. The hole, the longing, the yearning only draws me closer to Him. If we were totally whole, we wouldn’t need a Savior. There will always be the sense of loss within me on this side of eternity. Only then, will I be truly whole and filled.
We are all broken. We all hurt. Jesus definitely fills us with hope and holds us in the hard moments. He’s here each and every time the sadness comes. That’s the promise we have, as His followers. He holds me, he loves me, and continuously reminds me of the hope and grace extended to me. That’s what keeps me going. The only time I find real peace is in when I am still, open up His Word, and meditate on His promises.
Truthfully, I guess that’s really what Christmas is about: It’s in our emptiness and brokenness, that He brings hope. It’s the only hope that promises us a future and reminds us of such a great love our Father God has for us. He rescued us and continues to rescue us daily as we ask Him.
I don’t write this for you to feel sorry for me. On the contrary, don’t. I’m offering you a picture of what grief and loss look like. It’s harder during these times. And, it never really goes away. So many people are going through the same thing each holiday season, year in and year out. It’s okay to let them be sad. It’s okay to give them space. For me, being alone allows me to catch my breath, actually surrender my breath to Him. That may not make sense to you, but it’s a physical chore to breathe sometimes when you haven’t had space and time to lay it all down before the Lord. He’s the one who sustains the hurting and the broken.
If you’re hurting, take time to be still and meditate on Him. If you love someone who’s hurting, give them space, but don’t forget about them. I know it’s hard, but there’s such a fine line here. Being friends with someone who’s suffered loss isn’t an easy task, but, I promise you that you are loved and appreciated. The friendship shared through difficulties are the most valuable.
Find some time this holiday season to catch your breath, to surrender your breath, and most of all, to thank God for the hope that He so freely gave and continues to give to all of us through Jesus, His Son.
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