At Christmas time I was really struggling with the purpose and meaning of the winter holidays. I asked a minister from Ouray if he would share his thoughts with me and help me find direction and light and meaning. I don't think I ever received an answer to any inquiry in my life that was so spot on to what I needed. I'm so grateful for these words and for the person who shared them. I hope he won't mind that I share these beautiful ideas with all of you.
I asked him to save my Christmas. And this is what he replied:
First, I will try to do my best to answer your quarry, but you need to know that Scrooge and I have much in common. We're soul mates in regards to our views on Christmas, though I have not yet been visited by three spirits, unless you count the children as harbingers.
Setting aside the traditional nativity story and the unsatisfying commercial Xmas story, there is the deeper issue of choosing hope over hopelessness, purpose over purposelessness.
There are, in your life, several very good reasons for hope. If you were to write them down, what would you write? Chances are you'd list your husband and children, perhaps new friends you've discovered, perhaps possible new opportunities that have been presented to you these past weeks. All are works in progress, but that is what hope is, work in progress.
The challenge at this time of year is that the baggage we all carry begins to become more burdensome as the days get shorter and nights longer. Deep in our lizard brains there is the anticipation of hunger and cold, suffering and possible death. It is why the Druids celebrated the Winter Solstice, the last hurrah before the long hard winter.
Grief comes raging to the forefront of our consciousness. And, because this is a malady of the collective, we reinforce each others grief even as we search for a way out of feeling bad. So, rather than admitting we are hurting, we mask it with collective frenzied activity. What hope we have in us is forced into wearing Christmas garb, while feeling empty and alone inside. To do otherwise, our lizard brain reasons, is to be overwhelmed and drowned in sorrow.
What to do? Jettison all masking activities and only focus your energy on those things which truly give you hope. The Advent and Christmas stories are stories if hope. Detaching the marketing, unenlightened church and paternalistic narrative is a challenge, but it truly is a story of hope at its deepest level.
You may not see yourself as a Mary, but you have more in common with her than that you just gave birth to a boy child. Scripture says she pondered these thing in her heart. I believe she held them open ended, in anticipation of what God would do next, while believing that whatever God did, it would be right for the time and place...and that whatever it was, she would have the resilience to deal with it. She chose hope over hopelessness.
There is a flame of hope in you. I have heard it in your voice and seen if in your children's laughter and energy. I wish I knew your husband better, but I'm thinking in his own way, he is actively hopeful.
Nurture your flame. Do things that create hope in your family. Avoid people and activities that encourage masking their grief with pointless activity. Seek people who hold each other tenderly, exercise the gift of hopeful presence and who truly value you and your children for who you are.
And, take the long view. There is life after January 1. Plan an excursion, set a goal, buy seeds for a spring garden, make Easter outfits.
In all, remember you are deeply loved and valued (in darker times, I hear Barb say, "I sure do love you."). Thank you for sharing your life with us. You truly make us smile.
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