It all started with a question. Dawn and I have been friends for several years, and we have a mutual “friend” in Chris Fabry (radio host on Moody). Chris often posts or poses questions in advance of his programs to kickstart things. This was the question: “What memories does the song I’ll Be Home For Christmas evoke?” The response and subsequent conversation turned me upside down and inside out.
For the most part, Christmas is a time that brings joy, gratefulness, and maybe even quiet reflection; until it doesn’t. That’s what happened to Dawn this year. She’s the doting grandma to Abraham (age 2) and Chapman (age 20 weeks). Becoming grandma to those two sweet boys was a miracle in itself. But God answered some pretty incredible prayers when it came to Chapman. Before his birth, family learned that he had Trisomy 18. (He might not be carried to term, he might not survive long after birth, etc.) Chapman was born and conquered so many mountains over and over again. It was such an honor to watch the beauty that unfolded because of what God was doing. But despite the amazing hurdles that he scaled, he ultimately went to be with Jesus on Thanksgiving Day.
So when Chris asked the question about I’ll Be Home For Christmas, Dawn’s honesty screamed from the page. I’m certain that every person who read her words (or actually heard Chris talk about it on the program) was grieved and felt the devastation. The cliche responses are useless (and at times even hurtful). The whole situation just sucks and there’s no way around it.
I was sitting in a waiting area at church this past Sunday morning and my phone received a text; it was Dawn. This is what she said: Little by little, God is easing my pain….as much as I’ll allow Him to. It’s almost like He’s saying, “When you’re ready to talk through this, I’m here. In the meantime here’s a cookie and some milk by your door”. I’m keeping Him at arms length right now. Typical bratty daughter. But I know He’s my father, He loves me, I am His. But I’m a brat.
We texted back and forth a few times. I was so caught up with the imagery. So many thoughts. I loved my dad, and I know my dad loved me. But I also know there were times that he fought to keep me close. I might have been sitting on his lap kicking (and likely wailing); trying with all my might to get out of his grasp. Whether he was trying to reprimand me or trying to just show me some love, I often fought it. Then I envisioned Dawn (and the rest of us) doing the same thing with God. Sometimes it’s willful. Other times we aren’t even aware. Maybe someone else points it out. And then her comment about the milk and cookies. So good! So rich! So sweet! And yet so painful. He’s still there. Just waiting. Even after we take the milk and cookies and choose not to talk to Him. He lingers. Never far. Able to hear the thundering of every scream or even just the silent tear that falls without anyone else knowing.
Once I sat with these images and thoughts for a while I forced myself to consider what my answer to Chris’ question might be. While I certainly have many of the best memories that range from Christmas Eve at the home of my dad’s parents (quite literally a circus with so many of us squeezed into that tiny house) to Christmas mornings when my boys were little, I quickly found myself struck by the grief of my own loss. This year my oldest will be spending Christmas in jail. It’s been several years since he’s been with me on Christmas, but I would generally still see him at some point. More so than my loss is the loss that his girls have. No dad to buy presents for you. No dad to watch you on Christmas morning. No dad to be with you for Christmas.
My favorite ornaments on my tree every year are one from each of my boys. I didn’t keep all of the ornaments they made; once they fall apart, they’re in the trash. But these two ornaments I’ll have forever. Generally, I don’t pay much attention to where I place them on the tree. This year will be different. This year, Brandon’s ornament will be at eye level right in the front. I’ll wrestle my way to the tree every day at least once. I’ll stop to consider that God understands my loss even better than I do. While we celebrate the birth of Jesus maybe we temporarily forget that He came to die.
Dawn may not ever understand the “why” this side of eternity. But her willingness to wrestle in the arms of God is a wonderful example. She can taste of His goodness (milk and cookies) even while sitting on the floor angry on the other side of the door. I pray that the Christmas tree is an opportunity to safely wrestle until we fall under the ultimate tree in trust.
II Corinthians 4:16-18 ~ So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.