Yesterday marked two years since I lost my Dad. It might seem at first thought that losing a parent on Christmas would put a huge damper on the holiday from that point on, but for me it has worked to the contrary. All the activity and the traditions and togetherness overshadow my sadness on that day. I don't mind talking about it, and I appreciate when people check in on me. But I'm not sad on Christmas because of losing my Dad. When I think of that day, I am overwhelmed with gratefulness. I remember all the ways that God used the people He placed in my inner circle to show His love to me when I suddenly switched to autopilot, putting one foot in front of the other out of sheer muscle memory: how my husband and my son just sat with me while I cried, how my sister in law and brother in law finished up the Christmas dinner that I had abandoned at the news, how my family was already there with me, how Christmas carried on while I zoned out (which sounds like a strange thing to be thankful for, but I didn't want everyone else to miss out because I just had the ultimate curve ball thrown at me, so I was glad that everything didn't come to a halt on account of me), how the following day my husband and I left for OKC to help with the arrangements, and my JJ put together Savannah's new doll house for her, and how he, with the help of my in laws, held down the fort while Brad and I were gone.
On Christmas Day these days, I'm even more overwhelmed with gratefulness for all those I still have, and the nature of the holiday itself always has me feeling the love. It still doesn't seem real that Dad's not here though. I caught myself panicking for just a split second that I hadn't even thought about what I was getting him for Christmas this year. I do miss him. Christmas was one of his favorites. He always brought his electric guitar and sang Christmas Carols with the kids, rock and roll style. And I could ALWAYS count on him to buy all the noisy toys for all my kids.
I think New Years Eve will continually be the hard one for me, because he had plans to come up and spend that day with us 2 years ago. I was really looking forward to it. Ringing in 2019 was hard without him. But I'll never forget being curled up on the couch at my mom's house with a blanket over my head that night, just waiting for midnight to come and go so I could put the kids to bed and go to sleep, and my oldest brother walked in the door with a huge smile on his face. His eyes twinkled and he spoke as if he'd been waiting for just the right time to tell a big secret, "Have you seen the snow? You have come out and see this." Reluctantly, I forced myself off the couch and followed him out, expecting something quite unremarkable. To my surprise, a thick white soft blanket lit up the whole neighborhood, while giant snowflakes fell quietly from the dark sky. We spent the next hour breaking through dark heavy grief, laughing and playing with my kids, building a snow man, throwing snowballs, and making snow angels. My Dad loved the snow. I believe God was caring for me that night too, entering into my sadness with me, and bringing forth light and hope when the darkness was closing in, using the simple joys of life that reminded me of my dad to lift my spirits when I needed it most.
I know of a handful of people who have lost loved ones on special holidays this year. I hope these words are an encouragement to you, and that the Lord makes His love and care known to you in ways that are personal and unmistakeable. And while these small glimpses of His love may be the most tangible, I pray they point us all to the greater gift of His son, who took care of our greatest need and our deepest desire when He went to the cross to bring us into his family and set us free forever!
Merry Christmas to you all and a here's to a happier year ahead.
