I was very young, three, maybe four years old, but I remember what it feels like to be in a car driving over somebody. I remember the frost making dramatic patterns of the red flashing lights on the back window of the Olds. I remember Daddy taking the blanket wrapped around my thin stockinged legs to cover the man up. I remember the anxious adult voices in the street.
“…right out in front of me. I couldn’t stop. The ice…”
I remember Mommy’s voice making puffs of clouds in the cold night air as she held my little brother and I down in the back seat.
I remember the hushed voices in the kitchen saying, “We can’t let this spoil the children’s Christmas.”
I remember Grandma taking us into the bedroom and telling us that Santie Claus was on the roof. Could we hear him?
I asked her where the dead man was now.
She said Rudolph’s nose was glowing extra brightly when he learned this was my house.
I asked her if my Daddy was in trouble for driving over him.
She said she could hear Santie Claus eating the milk and cookies we put out for him in the living room.
Then someone opened our door and we were ushered into a room where presents now spilled out from under the tinselled tree.
Mommy said, “Oh look what Santa brought you!
Her eyes were red.
I was very young, three, maybe four years old, but I knew it was my job not to spoil the grown-ups’ Christmas. I squealed with feigned glee and hugged the doll sitting in front of the tree. It was an Oscar performance. Mommy smiled.
Daddy said, “Here, Honey. Open this one.”
His hands were still shaking.
I wondered if the man was with grown-up Jesus in heaven now -and if Jesus liked my blanket too.
Years later, when my children were scattered around the world and I was procrastinating putting up a tree, I admitted out loud that I hated Christmas. What right did merriness and hustle and bustle have to barge in and try to hide pain and sorrow behind sparkly red skirts as if it didn’t exist? Who gave this season permission to trump reality?
I know I was not the only one. There is something about the images of happy harmonious families that makes the first Christmas with an empty chair at the table excruciatingly harder to bear.
There is something about an entire tray of shortbread cookies on a table for one that makes loneliness stab deeper.
There is something about mistletoe and perfume commercials that makes unchosen celibacy crave illegitimate intimacy even more.
There is something about joyful carols in a church full of contented faithful that makes the struggle to believe feel like being cast into outer darkness.
There is a dark side to the Christmas story that doesn’t make it to the ceramic nativity scenes. We bring in the Wise Men, with their odd assortment of gifts, ahead of schedule for the sake of convenient story-telling, but we skip over the part where a jealous despot sent men to kill all the innocent two-year old boys and babies in the sweetly lying, still little town of Bethlehem –men who had to do his despicable dirty work, and then probably went home to a life-time of post-traumatic stress disorder from what their eyes and ears could not block out in the wine-stupoured nights to follow.
Then there was baby Jesus’ adopted father, Joseph, awoken by an angel with an urgent warning to get up and run to a country where he would be a refugee, confused by language and custom, doubly rejected for something that was not his fault, yet responsible for a family. He probably heard reports of the grief their presence had caused the parents in Bethlehem. Perhaps he had survivor’s guilt as well.
He was born into a dark place, and a dark time, this child. In the fullness of time, the Bible says. The angelic promises relayed by terrified farm hands, and the words spoken by two wrinkled old prophets in the temple had to feed this little family’s hopes for a long time. Joseph died before ever seeing what the boy was to become, yet he dared to bear his wife’s shame by marrying a pregnant woman; he dared to get up and follow the instructions from a mere dream to protect a child that wasn’t even his. He dared to obey. He dared to hope.
There was no rockin’ around a holly jolly Christmas tree with lights strung across the market place and the smell of turkey and stuffing wafting out of windows in that town. The story the Bible tells looks despair and pain right in the face. There is no denial of feelings here. And yet, and yet…
There is hope.
The sorrow of Christmas is also the blessing of Christmas, because this pain is why He came. Jesus said he came to destroy the works of the devil. Jesus said he came that we might have life, and have it abundantly.
There is hope in the midst of darkness.
“Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light…”
Charis: Subject to Change 
you’ve got me crying ~gorgeous and captivating writing ! Blessings friend ~Deborah
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You have a beautiful heart, Deborah!
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When I first started reading this I was immediately pulled into the darkness and felt the sadness told here. Then came the light, a lasting light that can lift us out of darkness. I don’t think we should cover up the darkness but grieve when it comes into our lives and have faith that as scripture says “weeping my endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.” Thank you posting, I know it must have been hard for you.
BE ENCOURAGED! BE BLESSED!
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It was difficult to write, and my heart feels the pain of so many dear people around me, but I think the same walls that protect us from sorrow also keep out hope. Denial doesn’t work. Bless you, Francine. I know it was difficult to read too -it had a lot fewer readers than the pretty pictures posts -I looked at the stats – thanks for doing that.
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Beautiful…achingly beautiful….I am having an atypical year where I am feeling so much of others’ pain…plus some of my own. Keeps me waiting on Him for sure.
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Pingback: Christmas? It’s Complicated | Charis: Subject to Change
Thank you for so beautifully expressing the pain millions have suffered over the years. Feelings have only one need—the need to be felt. You’ve helped me feel some that have been hidden for a long time. And now, I can let them go.
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I love that you demonstrate what you write about. Your book on emotional healing has been so helpful in learning to let go of painful feelings and asking the Lord to replace those emotions with his “insteads.” Joyous Christmas to you!
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I’m in awe of the eloquence of words that came from such sadness and tragedy. Thank you for reaching so deep to share something so personal and yet so universal. Thank you and bless you for the saying.
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May the peace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the peace that passes understanding, fill not only your home, but every room you enter this season, Faith.
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thank you for this. i can celebrate now. my childhood christmas’s were destroyed by penurious spirits and addiction and despair of the elders. loneliness was my constant companion from childhood.
the hopeless. yes. those of my loved ones who have rejected hope because of heartache and disappointment, when love came to town and was shattered. i decree that Lucas, Eli, Liam Sheppard, Oriana have hope. celebrate the best and do not ignore the rest. even Tomania who has destroyed a family and is still running without hope.
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Praying that the Lord will restore to you all the years the locusts have eaten. Joy, peace, love and hope to your entire family. May you all be overwhelmed by Jesus’ love.
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This is great. Thank for being real and honest. As a Firefighter/Paramedic I’m aware of the increase in certain types of calls the closer we get to Christmas. There is a lot of pain this time of year for many different reasons. But like you said, Jesus came to destroy the works of the devil and so that is our assignment as well. Let’s be the light that chases away the darkness!
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Thank you, Jesse. You certainly do carry the light and love of Christ into dark places. Praying for protection of your own heart, and also for your colleagues who cannot shut their ears to the cry of those in pain. I try to pray every time I hear a siren, for both the victims and the helpers. God bless you!
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For those of us who are parked on the left side of our brain, you make us want to run to the right! Capturing a child’s pain and confusion and translating it into adult language speaks to everyone who spent their childhood questioning. Thank you for that, and the peaceful resolution. Keep writing to my heart!
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Thank you, HC7. May the Lord bring peace to all your memories.
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This is beautifully said and it helped to open a small part of my heart that had been hidden for many years. Blessings…
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Praying for your heart to be restored, Terry. Blessings.
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Spot on CharisPsallo…..thank you!
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You would know, dear Bonnie. May Hope and the love and peace of our Saviour comfort your heart this season.
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Dear Friend, you hit the mark back in 2012. Today it went deeper. Having recently come thru a season of deep hurt..the violent, volatile, deliberate, attack from family….I needed this to remember that in these very dark, humbling, horrible streets, the light still shineth. The light penetrates deepest darkness and long sad nights of the soul. So, long live the King…and He returns…when I return completely to the Light. Mary pondereth….I do too!
Love and Peace to you and yours…..
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He understands. And so do I.
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