Merry Christmas, from Me and Mine

Last year, on Christmas Eve, I sat in the evening church service with my family.  Our children's minister (and one of my dear friends) ended up sitting beside us.

As we lit our candles to sing Silent Night, I lost it.  I was so incredibly overwhelmed with joy and thankfulness for my life and all of the blessings He had bestowed upon me.  I remember exactly how I felt -- breathless, undeserving, so excited about the days and months and years to come...

I remember receiving a message from our children's minister, after she witnessed me being taken over by my emotions that night:  "Thank you so much for letting me share such a beautiful moment with your family."
...

Grief is so hard to navigate.

It's experienced in all sorts of "loss" situations, comes in many forms, and can take over any given moment without any warning.

Today, my house has been filled with all kinds of noises.

Some of my favorite:  the kids shouting MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE MOMMY (even if it was at 5:00am); their giggles; their excitement over our traditions and the countdowns and Santa's upcoming arrival; their sweet feet running across the hardwood floors, all day long; Brooks learning to say, "Ho! Ho! Ho!"; CK's precious voice singing Christmas songs that she made up (of course); Everette's "Hi-YA's" as he tried to be a Santa ninja.

And also?  The noise of tears.

Of my tears.

Mostly because Christmas Eve last year has been haunting my memory and finding a resting place in the broken places of my heart.

And mostly because if you would've told me at this exact moment last year, that this year's Christmas would look and feel like this... I would've told you that you were crazy.

Last year, I sat in a Christmas Eve church service with so many hopes and wishes and happinesses coming to fruition, without a clue that - simultaneously - those hopes and wishes and happinesses were being shattered.

The hard part of this year's holiday seasons is not necessarily that it's different for us now... the hardest part is knowing that one year ago at this very moment I was just a girl thinking that all of her dreams had come true.

And this morning, as the kids and I were lying in Everette's top bunk, singing and laughing and tickling and wrestling... the grief cracked my broken heart wide open -- and I started sobbing.

The sound of my tears immediately brought concern to their sweet faces.

I thought, for a moment, of telling them that I was crying because I was just so happy.

But then, I decided to be honest, and heard my therapist's voice in my head telling me it was okay for them to know that I was feeling - and what I was feeling.

So I told them that I loved them so much, and that they made me so happy... but that I was sad.  I told them what I missed, and why I missed it, and why my heart was hurting in that moment.

There were hugs and kisses and snuggles all around - and then the tickling reconvened and I was smiling again.
...

Just like I questioned whether or not to share my sadness with them, I also questioned whether or not to write this post.  A simple MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU AND YOURS would have been easier... less scary, even.  But it would've also been lacking... misleading.

I want to be honest about my journey, about what I am experiencing.  I know I am not alone in my grief.  And while I know losses are different and bring different journeys of sadness and emptiness and loneliness and healing, I also know that for all of us there are so many moments that are brutal.

Moments that feel like you've fallen flat on your back and get the wind knocked out of you and you just can't breathe.

Have I had lots of wonderful moments with my kids over the last several days/weeks in anticipation of the holidays?  Have we laughed and danced and baked and eaten and sang and snuggled?

Yes.

But I've also had a lot of those moments where I just can't breathe because it still hurts, so bad.

Knowing that one year ago my life had already changed... and that I sat in a Christmas Eve church service crying tears of joy over the life I thought I was living.

So.

A heavy post for Christmas?  Yes.  But a true depiction of what Christmas looks like, feels like, sounds like for me this year?

Yes.

So, I will feel the hurt and grieve the losses and celebrate the blessings and fight to focus on joy and try to find the strength to walk through the painful memories, because it's a necessary part of my healing...

And I will continue to laugh and cry and hurt and dance and sing and struggle to breathe and eat and giggle and remember and tickle and smile and remind myself that He promises joy will come in the morning, even if we weep through the evening --

And that we are only able to have this promise of joy, because He sent his one and only Son... for us. <3

And, now, finally...

MERRY CHRISTMAS to you and yours.  Love, me and mine...