Christmas 2011

Yesterday because of a number of overwhelming family issues, I spent my first Christmas morning alone–ever. It is my fourth Christmas without John, and probably my worst one yet. Spent Christmas Eve alone, and as another widow said, tried to go to Church, but a seemingly small thing set me off and carried over into Christmas morning. All the masks came off and there I was–all flesh, exposed, raw and terribly vulnerable. I have learned to call grief a “stalker” because it stalks you and leaps out at the most inopportune moments– Christmas morning of all things–when the the world is supposed to be sleeping in Heavenly peace! Learning to abide in Christ during these times is essential for me. Jesus, living exactly His life through me–me living “from” Jesus, not “for” Jesus, focusing on Him, not on my events. I know these things, but holidays seem to find a way to derail this train huh? Today He will have to mop up my mess from yesterday. Jesus is never derailed by anything. He lives in me, therefore I do not have to be derailed–unless it is directly into His arms.

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3 Responses to Christmas 2011

  1. Candy says:

    I find it strange that we are so lonely and want to be with others, yet, when we are with others we want to be alone. It’s hard to wear our masks and pretend when our hearts are so broken inside us.

    • Wow, well said Candy. I have lots of family and spent lots of time with them, and still wanted to be alone. When I was actually alone on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, I really longed to be with others. But the “other” I wanted to be with was my husband. Being with others still feels so alone now that he’s not here. I miss the little nudges under the table to indicate something funny just between the two of us when someone in the room is doing something dumb; the looks across the room that only I understood to mean, “time to go.” You know, I’m sure, about all of those silly things you miss the most. I miss going for drives during the first snow, and having to walk in it to hear it crunch. Now even snow feels lonely! I am loving your blog posts. Keep them up.

  2. Nikole Hahn says:

    You should have let me know. Maybe we could have arranged something. I assumed you were with everyone.

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