December started out unbearably hard. The tears would not stop flowing and life was difficult every single day. And it's not surprising when grief strikes hard between Thanksgiving and Christmas, is it? I wasn't surprised, but I was still caught off guard. If that makes any sense. And if it doesn't, well, that's too bad I guess. I always say I won't be so surprised next time. I say this about a lot of things. Betrayal is what I say it about the most. But I can't be not surprised and still choose to trust in the good in the world and look for the good. I can't look for the good if I'm always dodging the not-so-good, the evil, the shadows that lurk behind every surface. And I'm an eternal optimist. I get down. I go negative. I know, it's true. But in the big scheme of things, looking at the big picture, I always think that a) tomorrow is a new day, and that b) the sun will shine tomorrow. If today is a hard day, I say, "that's okay, because tomorrow will be a better day..." But in December, the sun did not shine. Not one day to the next to the next. It started out cloudy and dark. And I missed my Dad something fierce. Of course, I imagined him in his Christmas spirit all joyous and infectious. As Christmas drew near, I imagine him reading out of Luke chapter 2 from the Bible, as he did every year on Christmas Eve. That was our sacred Christmas time. Christmas Eve. As a child, we went to church that evening and then celebrated our family Christmas after church. And then Christmas Day was reserved for going to Grandpa and Grandma's. And when the time came that it was just Grandma, we moved that celebration to the 26th. When I had my own little family, we did our family thing on Christmas morning because Christmas Eve was always the time to go to Mom and Dad's. And I have photo after photo after photo of my Dad, reading the Christmas story, written by Luke, with at least one kid on his lap. As December wore on, I was able to cry and hope at the same time. And at the least, in the same day. My tears weren't all sad. Some of them just were. They were there. Reminding me of a Dad who has been gone for three Christmas's now. And of his gentle, joyful spirit.
As always, the harsh realities crash through too. The reality that not everyone loved him. That some saw his flaws and didn't carry forgiveness. And it always cautions me and tends to bring some guilt. Guilt that I just love him. I care, but I really DON'T care, about those terrible things. I just care that he was my Dad. I know he had some public sins. Everyone sins, some just not as publicly as others. My friend Tom used to remind me of that. And growing up in a small town as I did, I needed that reminder. The reminder that Jesus called out gossip and judgmentalism many times in his teachings. More than some other sins that our society points fingers at.
I found faith again this year in December. Because I was desperate. I needed a life raft. Remembering that God, the God of the Bible, saved me, hopes for me, loves me, and carries me was exactly what I needed. Because I was going down for the last time. I needed some joy. and some hope. and more than just PAIN.
But Imagine Dragons is right. Pain, it'll make you a believer. Because it breeds desperation. And desperation breeds.... well, hopelessness and despair. I was in despair and I cried out and Jesus heard me and saved my soul. and today I am grateful.
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