Christmas carries pain for many of us. Loved ones can’t join
us or won’t. The warmth of the memories becomes icy cold envy in the absence,
and every happy commercial and smiling family is a reminder of the warm holiday
you used to have and can’t have anymore.
As I’ve been navigating my own holiday upheaval, I’ve discovered how healing and re-invention is very Christmassy indeed, and how to go about celebrating even in the middle of loss and pain.
As I’ve been navigating my own holiday upheaval, I’ve discovered how healing and re-invention is very Christmassy indeed, and how to go about celebrating even in the middle of loss and pain.
The Falling Away of Christmas
I didn’t know how good we had it. We were among the lucky
ones who had multiple family Christmas gatherings every December. My family, my
husband’s family, and even my aunts and uncles would have a do at Grandpa’s.
Maybe I was naïve to expect Christmas would carry on as the happy family affair
it was, with presents and laughter and games and so much food someone would
always declare they’d have to roll home if they had another bite. It wasn’t
perfect of course; the glitter and happiness often felt like a veneer brushed
overtop a lifetime of unresolved issues, but we were smiling and laughing and
people can still have a good time in a room full of eggshells. You just have to
know where to step.
But then it all changed.
Mom died, and our family got weird out loud. In the absence
of her peacemaking, we didn’t know how to get along or even seem to feel the need
to try. All bets were off and the veneer was stripped away, revealing all the
unresolved issues like an unprotected wound. Years of repressed strain released
like a spring, piercing us; family gatherings as we knew them, ended. Children
and grandchildren were no longer welcomed into the house, but invited to
convene in the detached garage. Relationships fractured too, cutting one family
out of the fold entirely for reasons that couldn’t be explained by anyone. All
the years of food, presents, and smiling and laughing had died with Mom.
That particular family celebration had been our core Christmas
thing. Now, with that space empty on my calendar and missing from the whole
Christmas experience, I was left wondering how we would celebrate. How we would
get back to the sparkle and splendor of Christmas when it had become so dim and
empty?
That was the most dramatic change, but every other family
gathering was affected too by some invisible force I couldn’t point to. After
Mom died, Grandpa died too, and the aunts and uncles didn’t invite the nieces
and nephews to Christmas anymore. That long-standing gathering went up in a
cloud of smoke. Piff. Just disappeared. Forever.
The in-law’s gathering had also been changing. There, time
has slowly eroded the celebration a piece at a time. The long-standing
tradition of exchanging gifts disappeared for no particular reason. Sorry,
kids. No more presents. I don’t know why. Come to your own conclusions, I
guess. One family withdrew slowly over the years, leaving everyone guessing
each Christmas about whether they’d come at all. And maybe it was just me, but
somewhere between eating peanuts and playing games over the years, I felt a
layer of veneer settle over us. An undiscovered crack had appeared somewhere, I
thought, that seemed to be expanding with time. Before you know it, our
long-standing day of getting together was suddenly moved to January; the month
where all the thrown out wrapping paper and leftover holiday obligations collect
in neglected heaps.
In short, all the pomp and splendor and gleeful anticipation
of Christmas had shriveled and gone.
Re-Inventing Christmas
The temptation, when our Christmas falls apart, is to feel envious of all the smiling people clustered together, chattering about the gifts and gatherings they still get to enjoy. It’s harder, I think, if we’ve known the joy of celebrating together; we know what we’re missing and feel the emptiness and the loneliness and the lack. It’s pretty easy to feel sorry for our children and for ourselves even as we look around our own homes at the twinkly lights and the decked out tree, because we know and miss the ‘more’ it could have been.
The temptation, when our Christmas falls apart, is to feel envious of all the smiling people clustered together, chattering about the gifts and gatherings they still get to enjoy. It’s harder, I think, if we’ve known the joy of celebrating together; we know what we’re missing and feel the emptiness and the loneliness and the lack. It’s pretty easy to feel sorry for our children and for ourselves even as we look around our own homes at the twinkly lights and the decked out tree, because we know and miss the ‘more’ it could have been.
Job 1 – Heal
Fair warning, this part gets touchy feely. But hang in
there; this is good stuff. So, as someone who’s been there (heck, as someone who
is still hip-deep in this stuff!) I want to tell you a critical truth I’ve
discovered on the path to re-inventing Christmas. Before you can move forward
at all, your number one job is to mourn the loss of Christmas as you knew it.
Maybe that sounds weird, but if you’re anything like me, you’d rather ball up
those sad feelings, flush them, and move on with your life, thank you very
much.
Here’s the thing; we can’t heal from hurts that we don’t admit exist.
Face your loss. Let yourself feel the feelings. It’s okay to
cry about not being able to play Scrabble with your family anymore. It’s okay
to cry that your kids don’t get presents from Grandma or Grandpa, and never
will. That IS sad. Admit the hurt and ache and emptiness. Cry it out.
Punch a snowman right in the belly. Then, as you feel those feelings and let
yourself ache for those things, you can mourn the loss and, in your own way,
let go of those expectations.
Job 2 - Reinvent
And then, and it took me a couple of years to realize this,
is that there comes a point where we need to shake off the dust from our
imploded holidays and begin rebuilding. And that new, re-invented Christmas can
be just as filled with joy and warmth as any from the past.
Here’s the thing about rebuilding something: we are not
trying to rebuild the same thing. The old is gone, and the new must come. Let
the old be gone; let it continue to exist as a memory. Cherish it. Appreciate the
good in those times. And now, make new ones.
This is a process by the way, so give yourself time to
figure out what the new normal will be.
For our own family, we’ve added a celebration with friends,
decided to count other things we do in December as a legitimate part of the
Christmas party (like getting a live tree at a local tree farm, attending the
kids’ concert, or joining friends at a city tree-lighting event). And we’re
still figuring out what kinds of things we can do or add to make Christmas our
own. Maybe our son will play a tune on his trumpet and we’ll all sing along.
Maybe we’ll attend a Christmas Eve concert at a local church, now that our
Christmas has freed up. Maybe we’ll deliver hampers or invite friends over for
a night of chips and board games. We’re still experimenting.
Re-inventing Isn’t Resurrecting
Here’s the thing; reinventing is about making new, not about
resurrecting the old.
That’s pretty cool, when you think about Jesus’ coming –
that’s exactly what he was doing. He
came to make things right, but he didn’t make things the way they were in the beginning.
He didn’t resurrect the Garden of Eden, as ideal and perfect as it was. He also
didn’t come to affirm the existing religious rules of the day, intent on
keeping things how they’d always been. Jesus came to re-invent life; to make it
new. (which, by the way, didn't mean it was all peace and sparkles. It brought discomfort and disillusionment and frustration, too. He didn't come to bring peace. Not yet... His newness brought upheaval, and that was fine by him. Just sayin'. You know, in case you feel, as I did, that all this newness should bring peace to all my relationships and a general feeling of happiness.)
Sometimes I feel like the Pharisees must have – resentful of
the changes I didn’t want and had no control over. I wanted our family Christmases
to continue as they were with all the board games, candies, and the warm sounds
of laughing together.
But Christmas isn’t about staying the same. Actually, it’s about
looking forward. God is in the business of renewal. Change. Movement. This is
good and exciting and something we can embrace with joy.
So I just want to encourage you, from one sufferer of loss
to another, to appreciate the past, but to let go of those expectations that
the future has to look like that. Then set to work with anticipation and even
joy as you figure out with Jesus and your family what your renewed, re-invented
celebration will look like.
Share below some Christmas celebration ideas to include.
Even if they’re something you’ve just thought of doing. In this time of re-invention, let’s brainstorm together!
