Christmas And . . . The Gift Of Grief

Christmas Cookie Concocting & The New Normal December 2021

I load my car with baking goods and supplies, drive partway down the mountain and then, haul everything out. My friend welcomes me from her kitchen yelling, in her Southern drawl, over her two dogs who greet me with barks while jumping at me for attention. I try to push through the fray with both of my hands full while simultaneously trying to shut the front door. With each step I take up the stairs, barking and jumping ensue. My friend and I both command her rowdy canine to cease and desist - to no avail. She orders them outside and I quickly organize before their next onslaught.

Donned in an apron, she heads for the sink to wash a baking project off her hands. She then gives me a hug and we settle into an evening of Christmas cookie concocting. A stately blue and white decorated tree twinkles at us from the living room, Bob Seger and Credence Clearwater Revival rock the atmosphere and I dance over my cookie batter dressed in festive leggings and a red tutu.

Christmases past bore a familiar rhythm for me from one year to the next: hosting gatherings for family and friends, food laden tables, children running to and fro, Bing Crosby and Andy Williams crooning Carols, Home Alone, White Christmas and popcorn, church services and the season set with the focus on Jesus.
                                Now, there is no continuity, except . . . for the latter.

I flew back to work, here at the radar site, where I’ve been for over a week now and where I will remain until after the New Year. With my family scattered and I did not calendar in for festivities, work feels a preferable way to spend Christmas.

While I was home from the end of September until the first part of December, for a much needed rest after an arduous work schedule, I enjoyed spending time with my family and friends. But I also spent time listening to, praying for and weeping with others who are facing loss from
                           Death
                               Divorce
                                   Illness
                                       Work/Finances
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                                        Losses . . . irrevocable
                                               Losses . . . fresh and gaping
                                                        Losses . . . exacerbated by the holidays

Christmas equates to celebration, but for some . . . a heavy heart is the only offering.

Over the past several months, five friends have lost a loved one to death. A few days before I flew back to work, a longtime friend stopped by my home after picking up her husband’s ashes from the funeral home. She cried from such a visceral depth my own soul was shaken to tears. Over tea, we puzzled on the whys and the what ifs. We spoke on faith and hope and trust. She shared on her love for the man who loved her for more than 40 years; the man whom she will never see again this side of heaven. As she drove away, my heart hurt for my friend and I prayed she finds her way as she mazes through the valley of grief.

There are four years now between me and loss. At the time, I felt incapable of finding my way. I’d awaken from sleep sobbing, gasping for breath in the solitary night hours. I’d break down crying at work and while driving down the road and in public settings. I’d ruminate on the pain and vacillate between anger and confusion and hopelessness. I found grieving to be a gloriously, messy occupation filled with intense emotions I struggled to process through.

But though grief felt a pugilistic foe, I discovered grief to be a teacher.

For I learned, through grief, that the human spirit is made for great love; love that transcends loss and beckons the heart to further expression.

I learned, on a greater level, of the invaluable support a community extends to the grieving heart; for it offers comfort at the onset of loss, but more than this, it provides gentle reminders that grief is not the place to pitch a tent and set up camp.

I learned that grief is a solitary journey of discovery into the misconceptions, the illusions held within one’s own psyche.

I learned, through grief, that the human spirit is tenacious; that it thrives toward life even when it feels it cannot find its next breath.
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I learned that grief showcases the human spirit’s quest for existence beyond this mortal moment.

And I learned through grief that there is another chapter and that I must turn to the next page of my story.

Grief is a tribute to love and to the human spirit’s ability to thrive even under the greatest of strain.

This Christmas Eve I’ll share crab legs and scallops and shrimp with five men who are strangers to me here at work in the Arctic Desert. Tradition is not a part of my new normal. But I know from times past that this is not my forever state. This season will give way to another and change will take me on to different adventures.

Whatever Christmas looks like, from one year to the next, I’ve learned to gift to myself patience with my heart and gentleness with my emotions. I allow for tears and even feelings of anger. More importantly, I hold fast to hope for I know that hope does not disappoint. And I remain grateful for the reason for this season; for our Savior who holds us close in the midst of grief and reminds us of our eternal home where no sorrow and no tears exist. Where we will embrace our loved ones on streets of gold in the presence of Love that knows no end.

Whatever loss you face this Christmas, know that you are loved, know that you are not alone and know that you are supported. Reach out and let others in, reach out and let the Savior in, he will comfort your heart this Christmas, I assure you, for he comforts mine.