My husband is more Christmassy than I, so we had to go to the live nativity at a local church. There were palm fronds spread over the asphalt in their parking lot, as Mary, Joseph, 3 Wise men, and 3 shepherds tried not to shiver in thier costumes. Oh, and the angel. We mustn’t forget the angel.
Five years ago when my son was a newborn, they had a drive thru nativity at the same church. My husband, struggling near to nervous collapse from his low-paying job, couldn’t afford Christmas presents for anyone. I remember sitting in the driver’s seat as he turned his head toward the shepherds and wept bitterly. He felt that God had deserted him. This year, he is buying my son the present of his dreams.
There is much to be thankful for that doesn’t come wrapped in a box. Sometimes I struggle with mental health, but I was not hospitalized this year. I have physical health that I don’t deserve for the extra pounds I heave around with. I have surrogate parents in an aunt and uncle who have taken on my child as a grandson. We live in a warm house with two running vehicles. So many are starving or in war-torn areas. I pray. I send funds when I can. I need to count my blessings much more often.
I just read a post I wrote thirteen years ago at Christmas. (I used to blog under a pseudonym). I was still struggling terribly with my father’s murder, and I ended the post by recounting my weeping as a Mariah Carey song played. “I won’t even wish for snow,” I called it. So much has changed since then. I got saved not long after this was written. I am married with a family now. And, though I still hurt at times, I feel much more peace about my father.
The Bible warns against sorrowing as the world sorrows. I did this before I was saved. Now that the Holy Spirit lives in me, there is peace at my core even in tough circumstances. I believe my father repented of sin and put his faith in Christ. I believe I will see him again. And the baby I lost last year. And my mother. And so many others.
My life isn’t perfect. Sometimes I think of how far I need to go and how far I fall short and I feel overwhelmed. I have my meltdowns. I get depressed. But still there is the voice that tells me to get back up. Try again. The voice that reminds me that I am forgiven.
So this Christmas is better than that one in 2009. Better than 2017. Not perfect, but better. In this life there may be no perfect, so I’ll take better.
And it may even snow this year.