Honesty ensues. It’s been a bit of a hard year for me, and the impending holidays and the new year look like the dead end of the tunnel. (Or whatever the opposite of “the light at the end of the tunnel” is.)
It’s not that I always hate on this season. I normally love Christmas – when things are right. But things aren’t right this year. This is the first Christmas ever that I won’t be able to spend with my family. My dad and my mama and my sweet baby sister. And my in laws. What kind of Christmas is it anyway if it’s not spent with family?
I thought maybe making my favorite Christmas treats would help, but honestly, without having my mom there and my family to help eat everything, it didn’t feel right.
I’m still feeling like a visitor/stranger in our church at a time when it should feel like it’s a home to come to. I have no friends here to hang out and do Christmasy things with.
Christmas is so expensive. Having spent several weeks off of work throughout the year for various things, money feels tight at a time when it should feel leaky.
Christmas music makes me sad. I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams was one of my favorite songs – until now. Until it’s truly me.
I decided to try writing my heart out about it. Writing is therapy to me and it never fails to put my situation into perspective. I stared at the cursor on my tiny white screen. There were no words. There was no perspective.
Not even Leise Rieselt der Schnee made me feel better. I love when it snows; I love winter. I just expected it to make me feel Christmas. It didn’t.
I’m kind of realizing how extremely traditional I really am. It’s just that I would like things done the way they were always done every year until now. I always considered myself an open-minded person who could embrace change but Christmas somehow is all about tradition and somehow trying to make new ones is just so much harder than I thought.
If this post makes you feel like you accidentally took too much downers, by all means tap out. I haven’t even begun to share everything. And I’m not going to, for the sake of reserving at least a little bit of privacy for me and my – the people in my life.
The thing is, even though I’m hurting and sad at a time when bells are jingling and lights are flickering and everyone seems to be in the most wonderful time of the year, I realize that this is actually the reason that there is such a thing as Christmas. The reason Christmas exists is because people were broken. People were hurting. Sad. Lonely. Angry. And that thought does give me peace. And hope. Maybe things will be better next year. Next Christmas.
Maybe next year Christmas will be everything I hope for.
But for now, it’s okay to be sad. I’ll gather my husband and his sister and my sister around and we’ll have a great Christmas. I have to believe that.
(After several attempts of trying to write this post, a post from a blog I follow caught my eye. The post was titled When Christmas Makes You Sad and it felt like they had reached into my brain to retrieve my thoughts and written the blogpost that I couldn’t. After reading and rereading it several times, it finally helped me to write this one. Be sure to read it for yourself as well.)