Christmas Wish This Year

Our last Christmas with Joey, 2007

This is the fifth Christmas since my son went to Heaven. It doesn't seem possible. I still miss him every day, and long for him to be here with us as we celebrate our family traditions. His loss is still a knife in my heart. I make myself go through the process now, but there is a gaping void where he used to be.

After he grew up and left home, he was always the surprise package on Christmas eve. Joey would tell us he couldn't come home for some credible reason, and then he and his dad would secretly set up plane tickets. On Christmas eve, my dear husband would think up some excuse to leave the  house, make a quick jaunt to the airport to pick up Joey, and Voila! Surprise! there he would be on my doorstep. I miss the big arrival scenes, the joyous laughter, the big wrap-around hug, and the adventurous stories of how he got there after all.

Joey, apres-ski relaxing

And he always had a story. One year, on the plane home, he had a rather large woman with an unruly child sitting in the window seat next to him. He said the woman squeezed into her seat, put her headphones on, closed her eyes and unofficially turned the childcare over to him for the flight! The child sat on his tray table, ate his food, climbed over his shoulders, thumped the people in front of them, and trampled the laps of the other strangers around them --as the mother resolutely slept through it all.  I am sure there was plenty of non-verbal communication between him and the flight attendants, because they kept a sympathetic eye on him throughout the flight, bringing him whatever would help ease his pain. As he disembarked, they patted him on the back, consoled and congratulated him.  They were obviously impressed by the fortitude of this young man. When he got home, he took a deep breath, and poured out this story, including all the gory diaper details and facial expressions. We loved every drop of it.

When Joey was home, it was as if the lights went on. He was a charmer, that boy of mine, and an entertainer, a comedian and an agent of good will-- a happiness bringer. He was attuned, aware, alive, and a giver. He was something special and wonderful. And we all knew it.

Christmas 2008

We ruled the world then. Everything was good. We thought life was manageable and in our control. We thought it would be an endless stream of  successes, happy vacations and surprise parties. We had not met crushing loss then, nor deep unremitting sorrow; nor had we known the heavy darkness of night weighing down on us, making it difficult to breathe.

It was the world "before", and now we live in the world "after". Perhaps we were lucky to have such a shallow view of suffering, but I am pretty sure we were not better people for it. Are we better now? I hope so, and wish it to be so, but I will not guarantee it. We are still a work in progress.

2012 has been the most difficult year for us since 2008. Just when we thought we were getting steady in our boat, we have been hit by wave upon wave of loss and disappointment this year. And with it,  the attendant discouragement, frustration, stress, powerlessness, and struggle.  We have wrestled with stubborn circumstances far beyond our ability to control or influence. And we seem to be our same old weak, frail, human selves, and not the exemplary overcomers we wish to be. Alas.

In our quest to redeem suffering, to be wiser than before, to be beyond weakness, we find ourselves still very much in need of a Savior. But the good news is: He is there. Our "Beautiful Savior, King of Creation. Son of God and Son of man" is there. Arms open wide, gracious, reassuring, strong where we are weak.

Our hope at Joey's death, and our hope in this year of great travail, continues to be our Beautiful Savior. Though we cannot bring back our son, and we cannot bring back the "before", and we cannot control our circumstances, or others or even ourselves at times, He can and will do it all.

He is our Hope. Our Christmas wish to you is to find the same hope we have found in our Beautiful Savior.

                                

^{Romans 8:37} No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. ³⁸ For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,^[k] neither the present nor the future,nor any powers, ³⁹ neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

My Favorite Christmas Gifts

At the mall.
They consented to go see Santa so I could get a good picture of them for Christmas.

This is what we got. On Santa's lap, no less. 

They saw the carousel, and wanted to ride it. It's probably been a long time. Here are two riders.

Two more.

And our own Willy Wonka joined them.

Another pose for Papa's camera.

Then off to dinner to try fondue, which they liked pretty well.

Cute cousins and five of my favorite people.

Blue Christmas Again

"It feels entirely impossible that I will live the rest of my life without my brother's physical presence. It feels like a horrible dream and a cruel joke." 

These are the words I read this morning from a precious friend on facebook. Another bereaved mother is inviting her community to a mass in her daughter's honor on Christmas Eve. Our new friends in Joplin, MO are suffering through their first terrible Christmas after the crushing tornado that killed so many. A precious Maui friend is experiencing her first lonely Christmas with her husband in Heaven, as many local Navy SEAL families here are facing their first tough Christmas morning without daddy.

My thoughts turn hourly toward many friends who are suffering loss this Christmas,  and one very precious family that is anticipating loss as they bravely wend their way through another Christmas with a terminal cancer prognosis. I worry about them all, and pray for them, and ask God to pour mercy on them. I have met so many broken-hearted people now, and know there is a whole, almost invisible, substrata of people for whom the Christmas holiday is truly excruciating. It's a fount of once sweet memories that has now become a painful reminder of deep, unrecoverable loss. Doug Coupland said, "Christmas makes everything twice as sad." There are no quick cures under the tree for these hurting people.

This is our fourth Christmas without Joey, and we are in an edgy, restless, unmanageable funk. You might think we would be used to it, but we are not. After 28 Christmases with our vibrant son, one who lit up our lives, we are not going to "get over" his absence anytime soon. It still cuts deeply and we are in a bit of a wilderness trying to be part of the holidays with our friends and church, but mostly longing to simply wander into a cave for a week or two and cry. It creates an unwieldy divide inside the soul.

Scripture calls death an enemy. The Bible  never glosses over death, or tries to minimize it in any way. It is the thief of everything that is good in this life--love, companionship, hopes and dreams--and the Bible tells the truth about it. But it also gives us hope that death will not be the end of the story. I cling to these words of Jesus:

John 10:27-29 “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand.”



And these from the Apostle Paul:

1 Peter 1:3-5 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you.



It's true that there is no quick cure for grief and loss, and it won't be fixed today or tomorrow. It does require a patient wait for the things God has prepared for us. But they are coming and that is our solid hope. I believe the reassurances about the world to come--a place where there will be no more death, sorrow, sickness or separation. My anchor is there. I lifted it out of the miry pit of this world, and sunk it into the solid rock of Heaven when my son left. My hope is there.
 
For now, we get through the days as we can. No small task, but we find our ways. My friend in CO bakes and quilts, my friends in OH preach, and my friend in WA writes and collects blankets for the children's hospital. We give as we can and no longer expect so much from this world. We weep with those who weep. We don't ride the wave of false joy that the television specials and commercials promote. We get in and out of stores as fast as we can. We don't relate to Jolly St. Nick or jolly anything else. Jolly is a thing of the past.
 
Rather, we endure like a runner in a marathon, for the trophy at the end of the race. We keep our "eyes on the prize" and ignore the distractions on the sidelines. We anticipate the party that will be had then--a true celebration, with true comfort and true joy. And best of all, the truth that makes it possible to survive this sorrowful world, we will all be together at the finish line.

Though it isn't easy, that, when all is stripped away, is somehow turning out to be enough.

“They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it. Death cannot kill what never dies.” ~ William Penn

Snowy Memories

“In any man who dies there dies with him,

his first snow and kiss and fight.
Not people die but worlds die in them.”

Yevgeny Yevtushenko (Russian Poet, b.1933)

Christmas Flashback

Christmas is difficult for the bereaved. I feel like I drew a deep breath, then plunged underwater till it was over. The underwater part is: "don't think, don't feel, just do". That's what I did. I got through it and was glad when it was over.

But looking back on my pictures this morning, I realized that this was my special moment in all of it. A few days before Christmas we had Christmas dinner at our house. After dinner, Isabel read The Polar Express to all of us.

Her approving audience.

All feet pointing center!

I love the imagery in the Polar Express and my grandchildren seem to understand most of the symbols.

Faith is the silver bell and when we lose it, God helps us to find it again.

An Angel in a Santa hat.

Counting Our Blessings

....and one in Heaven.

Handel's Messiah

One of my lifelong dreams came true last night. I have always wanted to attend a concert of Handel's Messiah, and last night I got my wish. One of my kind neighbors gave me her extra tickets. Wow.

This was our vantage point in the concert hall at Regent University. This place is really gorgeous with the deep olive color on the walls and the rich wood railings.

The VSO--aka Virginia Symphony Orchestra and Chorale arrived all dressed in their finery. The warm glow of the string instruments against all the black clothing made a lovely picture. The concert opened with the words, "Comfort, comfort ye, my people". Just what I needed to hear. Music for a broken heart.

The female conductor ( the first I've seen) did an incredible job. Look at all those intently focussed faces. Kind of different from the childrens' holiday programs we've been attending-- but each delightful in their own way.

There is a long tradition, dating from Handel's first performance in 1741, that when the Hallelujah Chorus is played, the audience stands up in honor of the King of Kings. That was the final movement in last night's concert, and true to tradition, the audience stood up. It was really very moving. It made you want to sing along, but it wasn't that kind of concert, so we listened in rapture.

When the concert ended, we exited to this gorgeous foyer. One of the most beautiful interiors I have ever seen. I could have stared at it all night long. I wish I had taken a closeup of the wallpaper. It was amazing. It looked handpainted and went so beautifully with that marble checkerboard floor. The chandeliers sparkled and shined as if nary a spot of dust was ever allowed to gather. The inlaid crest on center of the floor lent such dignity to the whole affair. I felt like I was in a very grand world for a couple of hours.

Inspiring music in an equally inspiring environment. How Heavenly.

These are the texts for the words to the Hallelujah Chorus. Maybe this will help bring up that familiar music in your head.

And I heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings, saying, Alleluia: for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. (Revelation 19:6)

And the seventh angel sounded; and there were great voices in heaven, saying, The kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ; and he shall reign for ever and ever. (Revelation 11:15)

And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS. (Revelation 19:16)

Our Last Christmas Together

The view from our cabin window looking out at the Grand Tetons in Wyoming.

We spent our cabin time trying to get a peek at this between the passing clouds. These beautiful peaks were the focus of so much of our conversation and seeing them became a quest.

Their raw beauty filled us with awe.

Joey and I doing some Christmas shopping between ski days.

He didn't like to shop, so he unknowingly gave me a gift that day-- just to hang out with me. It's a tender memory now.

Oh, to have those precious moments again.

Drinking beer and hot toddies at the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar in Jackson Hole, WY. This was much more to his liking. I bought him a t-shirt there which he loved.

His easy grin as he opened presents on Christmas morning. He basked in the pleasure of the moment. He was always good about being in the moment and exuded joy and contentment as he soaked life in.

How I miss his smile and his style

so

very

much.

What a gift he was.