When Silent Night Is Lonely and Christmas Isn’t Merry

The pictures on the Hallmark cards at don’t tell the whole story do they? They don’t show…

faces stained with tears while quietly hanging ornaments on trees with missing spouses or children to share in tree trimming this year

… drives back and forth to hospital bedsides, and nursing homes and rehabs visiting family who are not well

…empty apartments, beds and seats next to singles who feel especially aware of their lack of coupleness during the most wonderful time of the year

We all have pictures in our mind of how Christmas should be. Visions of warm and cozy a moments, filled with family and love and joy. Our pictures simply do not include suffering, sorrow and pain. These feel so out of place and no cup of cocoa or festive carol can change it.

Sometimes Christmas is hard. Not in the “wow, how will we afford to get the toys? Or geez, we have too many commitments this month!” hard. No, this is the kind of hard that makes you feel like you may not be able to stand the pain that wells up from the deepest places in your heart, threatening to engulf you. The kind of hard that crying and yelling and sleeping does not relieve.

This is grief. And grief and Christmas are unlikely companions.

Yet, the very first Christmas, before Santa and Macy’s and Black Friday and Ugly Sweater Parties, carried it’s own share of grief. A young woman outcast in her community, through scandal. A man unsure how to care for his new wife and their coming child. Poverty, injustice, pain and loneliness were hand in hand with the birth of promise, redemption and new life. Jesus came into our pain and our poverty, our need and our mess to live with us. He did not paint a Norman Rockwell portrait with his arrival. Everything did not get better for those around him right away- in fact, it got worse. Children were murdered, his parents forced to flee in the night- injustice and pain seemed unquenchable.

Yet, the promise of his birth was Emmanuel. Christ with us. We were no longer alone and his eventual death and resurrection would secure an eternity of joy and peace that no suffering can ever touch. Christmas is a promise of Christ with us. We are not alone in our grief. We will not be defeated by sorrow. We will not be swallowed up in suffering.

If this December meets you in the midst of darkness, take heart. It was a dark, dark night when Light first arrived, and real life, in Christ can never be taken from you. Hold on to the promise of Emmanuel.

Nasty vents, pretty trees and the comparison trap

I had one of those productive Saturday’s where I woke up with energy and began cleaning with gusto. The dust bunnies were going down. One of those days where I was sick of the dust and grime and ready to whip my house into shape and conquer the mess. In my cleaning frenzy, I noticed my return vent in the dining room. With absolutely no exaggerating, I can say- it was atrocious. Maybe I hadn’t cleaned it in…..well, somewhere between four years and ever. So, imagine the worst. Because that’s what it was. Now, I feel no personal shame about this because I am a working mom and also, it’s a return vent- who remembers to clean those?? But, as I sat down with a soapy bucket of water to rid the nastiness, in my line of sight was also my beautifully decorated Christmas tree. The contrast between the disgusting vent and the festive, lovely tree was striking.

Both were true at the same moment. In my home I had beauty and filth. The prettiest and the ugliest parts staring me in the face and it hit me- this is the ridiculousness of comparing lives on social media (or at all). We end up staring at each others Christmas tree’s and feeling ashamed of the return vents. But, if we are honest, we all have both. There are parts of my home and my life which wonderfully reflect the image of God and the talents he has given me, just as there are parts that show my broken sinful nature and limits in ability. I began thinking about all the insecurity and jealousy and discontent we stir up in ourselves by comparing our worst to their best. And it made me angry at how we miss the opportunity to celebrate other’s beauty because we are ashamed and fearful of our ugly.

I am not afraid to name my stuff. I have learned to own it and I share it. My closest friends, my community group women and my family know I am sinful and full of limits. But, in an attempt to show we have no need to compare to each other or hide from each other- I’ll name some of it right here: self righteousness, fear and anxiety, codependency, emotional eating, lack of self control and speaking the whole truth. That’s sin stuff I battle and pray about and confess very regularly. Then there are limits- I have mediocre handwriting, cannot do anything involving hand-eye coordination, have a terrible sense of directions, am forgetful and rarely get birthday cards out on time, have almost no artistic ability (save a cool cartoon penguin I can draw!), tendinitis in my right elbow, high cholesterol and hair that gets gray way too fast lately. Oh and a poochy stomach and one million stretch marks!

None of those truths negate that I am fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of my Creator. I have talents and beauty at the same time that I have weakness and sin. Same life; same house. I don’t think the solution is to stop posting pictures of our good stuff or start posting pictures of the ugly- I mean, ya’ll don’t want to see that vent- it was gross. Rather we need to remember that the pictures we post and the statuses we share that Celebrate beauty and love and order and fun can’t possibly be the whole picture of anyone’s life because we all need a Savior.

We do not have to feel insecure about our friends good moments because trust me- their homes and their lives have the same stuff yours and mine do- Broken and beauty will always be together until Jesus returns. Instead we can celebrate the good with each other and encourage one another with truth- we are all flawed and all loved. Both true at the same time.

The Opposite of Trauma

I work with a lot of trauma. The impact in men and women whose lives and hearts were ripped apart by pain and brokenness. One definition of trauma I use is "being negatively overwhelmed.” There are so many things in this broken world that can simply overwhelm our person- war, abuse, assault, death, abandonment, a diagnosis, an affair…so many things we really weren’t created for.

We were created for The Garden.

Shalom.

Peace with God and each other, everything as it should be. But from the moment sin entered, we began living in a world where sometimes, it’s just too much of what we weren’t made for, and in those moments we experience trauma.

Perhaps because I work with trauma, or maybe we all feel this way, I am drawn to moments that are corrective to the injury of souls. Moments where some kind of healing or repair or blessing shows up and changes the hurting person involved for the better. I love to hear the stories about those moments. And do you know what I find as a common denominator in all of them- connection.

Confess your faults (weaknesses, mistakes, wounds) to one another and pray for each other THAT YOU MAY BE HEALED. -James 5:16

Above all love each other deeply, for love covers a multitude of sins. 1 Peter 4:8

There is a healing power that comes from taking off the mask and sharing honestly what is happening and then being loved deeply in return. Love from others has the power to heal us, just like God’s love is the power that saves us.

Our world celebrates openness while simultaneously creates a ton of obstacles to getting there. We applaud people who have the courage to “speak their truth” but we so often feel alone and isolated. Because connection doesn’t come from proclaiming your ideas on a platform- it comes from sharing your heart with a person. It’s so easy to lose the healing power of connection in a world that is obsessively focused on crafting an image and curating a life. Connection is about being deeply known and deeply loved. I can’t be deeply known unless I allow you to see the real me- with all my mess and strength and sin and victory. And platforms are simply not safe places to do that. If the primary place we try to connect is a dead end avenue, we will always feel alone.

One of the most beautiful things God gave us to get through this life is each other. We have the ability to sit- face to face and talk.

And cry.

And pray.

We can live in connection with people around us in a way that brings life and hope and healing into our lives. We can choose to climb down from our crafted platforms and be regular, fragile people who share the hurts and receive grace and love from each other. It’s one of the most powerful things we can experience- being known and loved- so much so that it has the power to drive out the darkness around us and heal the injuries within us. It takes great courage to seek out deep connection in a world that lives in the shallow waters of screen connections. Yet, when we do what God tells us we were created to do- stop hiding, confess, be vulnerable, open up- then we are able to be “positively overwhelmed” by love.

How to Grow Weeds and Kill a Garden

Much to my dismay, I have always had a black thumb. My mother has a lovely green thumb and grows all things beautiful from flowers to house plants to vegetable gardens. She comes by it naturally- my grandfather also grew everything from prize winning orchids in his greenhouse to unlikely little patches of strawberries he let the grand kids pick when we found ripe ones in the crushed shell “soil” of his yard on Anna Maria Island.

My current yard, while a lovely shade of green, is essentially a sham. It looks nice when freshly cut, but any real yard person call tell- we aren’t growing grass. We’re growing weeds. Mind you, I am fine with it. They grow with no effort on my part and because of the big trees that shade my front yard, getting real grass to grow would be a feat of commitment I am not willing to make. There are limits to what a black thumb gardener will do!

Last week I spent 4 hours doing yard work, which mainly consisted of weeding, trimming and hauling yard trash to the curb. I could barely walk 2 days later because my hamstrings were in complete rebellion, as though I have never used them. (Which is rubbish as I bend over to pick up all manner of belongings that my ADHD family somehow cannot see!) None the less, all the misery from my hamstrings got me thinking- it’s just so much easier to grow weeds than a garden. It is a lot less work to have a wild jungle than a lovely yard. The bottom line- the ugly, untamed mess of life will automatically happen, but if you want a pretty yard or garden or life- you have to do the work.

I often am surprised by the results in my life when I am not paying attention. It seems so innocent to be busy with life’s distractions and forget to read my bible for awhile thinking everything will just hum along with no change. I forget the weeds are coming- bad attitudes, anxious thoughts, envy, laziness and complaining. They all just seem to pop up without warning- but the cause is obvious. My sinful heart left to itself will revert back to its sin nature.

From the curse in Genesis till now, the reality is for life to flourish- we will have to work. And it won’t be easy. Sin has changed the way the world works. My sin changes the way my heart works. And though Jesus has saved my soul, my life here will always be a work in progress. Just like my hamstrings rebel when I have not spent much time gardening, my heart rebels when I have been coasting in relationships and disciplines and then suddenly decide it’s time to put some effort in. The best garden is one where the gardener spends consistent time weekly, and often daily, tending to the plants. So often in my life, I want to be able to simply show up for church on Sunday’s or read my bible once a month and still have a growing fruitful marriage, family and walk with God. But that is a delusion. My life will not grow and thrive with occasional maintenance on my soul.

Mountain tops are quickly replaced by valleys in life- have you noticed? There really is no “coasting” as a person. We are either growing stronger and healthier in Christ or we are devolving into the worst version of ourselves over time. The Bible is full of gardens. God himself planted a beautiful one in Genesis and gave Adam and Eve the job of tending to it. They got a little distracted by a talking snake and their own sinful urges and very quickly fear and doubt set in and suddenly they weren’t trusting God but themselves. Psalm 1 says we will be blessed like a giant healthy tree when we do not live primarily being fed by the world but instead taking in a steady diet of God’s word. It say our lives will be fruitful and strong with deep roots to hold us securely in times of storm or drought.

In the past couple years I have walked through seasons of both storms and of waiting. Both are easy times for my heart to run to sin or distraction to comfort, numb or give me the illusion of control. My life always looks the messiest and feels most out of control when I quit tending to my heart. When I infrequently pray, quit sharing my struggles in community, don’t spend time in God’s word or never allow myself time to be still and rest- the weeds take over. Thankfully Jesus always provides me grace to start over- no matter how messy things have gotten. But the best times happen when I keep digging into God’s word and staying present with him in prayer and stillness and worship: then slowly fruit appears- joy, peace, contentment, humility and love.

Growing weeds is simple- just do nothing and watch them take over. The life that flourishes comes through the discipline and persistence of staying connected to the Father. “I am the vine and you are the branches, if a man remains in me and I in him- he will bear much fruit. Apart from me you can do nothing.” John 15:5

Perfect Family Photo's- and Other Ways to Ruin Christmas

The last year we had photos made for Christmas cards was 2011. We look happy. Casual.Coordinating but not too matchy. You might even think we seem like the kind of family it would be fun to go grab dinner with when our photo shoot ended.......But that day was awful. The younger two children were not in the mood for pictures, neither was the husband. I fussed around all morning at my family and then had hurt feelings and tears by the end of the ordeal. We were cramming family pictures into an already busy weekend in the busiest month of the year. The only reason those photos are were good is the talent of my sweet friend and family photographer, Kelly.

Among the painful lessons I have learned throughout my years of motherhood and wifery, “How to Ruin Christmas” ranks as one of the worst. Probably because it is one of my favorite times of year, I always placed such high expectations on myself to create magical moments while simultaneously feeling joyful, peaceful and delighted. Shockingly, I somehow managed instead to feel disappointed, irritated and stressed. It took me awhile to catch on, but after one too many“family picture fiasco’s” I began to realize my dreams of cozy moments and perfect memories were being thwarted by my pressure to create them.

It turns out you can’t script which moments in life become treasured memories. They do not follow a Pinterest plan. They often elude all the careful planning and coordinating. Rather, they seem to emerge when simply given time and space with minimal expectation. Some of the best times with my kids came when I carved out space for family time, but allowed them to help plan what we filled it with. The very worst times were when I had a rigid picture of not only how an idea would look, but also how everyone would feel in the midst of it. Times when I not only wanted things to look perfect, but everyone to share a specific emotional response, that I had decided ahead of time would fit my mental picture.

The truth is kids are sometimes cranky, whiny, tired and unenthused. People run late, husbands get sick, cocoa spills in the van while light looking, dogs throw up on the Christmas tree skirt, baby Jesus gets dropped out of the manger and breaks an outstretched arm (true story), dinners burn in the oven and children refuse to sing in the kids choir on the night of the performance.

It’s still normal life,even though it’s Christmas.

Do you know what Emmanuel means? God with us. That’s what makes Christmas miraculous.God came down to be with us, in the midst of our normal and often messy lives. You want to know how to really enjoy Christmas? Be with your family. Fully present. Let go of the lists of ideas and projects and just be with them. Celebrate a God who came down to us. Tell them of a Savior who loves them just as they are. And while you’re at it, tell yourself.