A Different Christmas
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“But Mary kept all these things, pondering them in her heart.” Luke 2:19
On December 23rd when I was fourteen years old, our farm home was destroyed by fire. It was Christmas Sunday, and my family was at worship celebrating with our church family the joy of Christmas. I remember the details of that day from the time a neighbor came into the church to tell my dad our house was on fire until the evening going home with my sister and her husband not knowing where I would live.
The community rallied around our family providing food, clothing, Christmas gifts and shelter for my parents to stay on the farm to tend the animals. Everything I had own for 14 years was gone with only pictures rescued by the firemen remaining of the memories of childhood. Everyone in my family was safe and from that day my view of material possessions changed.
It was a different Christmas that year.
In my second year as Associate Minister in Marysville, a winter storm on Christmas Eve closed travel on Christmas day. I had enjoyed Christmas Eve with my church family and was looking forward to spending Christmas day with my mom and dad and extended family. But travel was impossible. It was going to be the first Christmas without celebrating with my parents and siblings. I was invited to the Senior Minister’s home to share Christmas dinner and family time with them. It was good to be with someone’s family, but it was not the same.
It was a different Christmas that year.
Christmas, 2015, was the first Christmas without Dave. It was only 3 months after Dave had died, and I was still numb and just wanted to get through Christmas. A friend helped me decorate the Christmas tree that was left by the previous condo owner. The tree was on the sun porch. It was decorated but I kept the curtain drawn to the tree and never looked at it again. I had Christmas dinner with Dave’s children and grandchildren. The emptiness of the time together was intense. Dave was always the center of the family gathering. I had dinner with friends that evening, too.
It was a different Christmas that year.
Christmas, 2017, I had moved to my hometown and was trying to start a new life. I had gone back to the familiar people and location to heal and re-group. I spent that Christmas with my sister’s family and one of my brother’s family. I had dinner, conversation, presents and even sang Christmas carols. I was in the moment and with family, but felt disconnected and different.
It was a different Christmas that year.
Now it is 2019, and I am in my second Christmas living beside the friends who invited me into their home the first Christmas after Dave died. I have some decorations around my place. My neighbor, Greg, put up lights outside. Today, there is snow on the ground. It looks like the Christmas season. I have been in worship during this month of December and sang Christmas carols, and Christmas music is playing in the background as I write. I have driven around the area at night and enjoyed the Christmas lights. I drove by the homes where Dave and I lived, and the memories flooded my heart and mind. I am so thankful for the memories but so sad no new memories will be made with Dave.
It is a different Christmas this year.
Different isn’t bad, it is just different. In each different Christmas, I have learned lessons from God. I have walked the journey to Bethlehem and know Christmas is not about how I celebrate it or even who I am with, Christmas is about Jesus. It is about Jesus coming anew into my heart and life. I recognize I am different because of each Christmas, but I am different also because of how I open my heart each Christmas to Jesus. Jesus lives in my heart and is with me in each different. So like Mary, I keep pondering in my heart each different Christmas and drawing closer to Jesus on this journey.
