The mixed feelings that surround the Holiday season

           I usually don't talk about this.  I don't usually mention that every year when we set up Christmas decorations, a level of unbidden depression sneaks into my heart.  I don't mention that there are still Christmas songs I cannot listen to, ones that I hope this year won't carry the memories, won't connect to a sense of terror, of tragedy, of unexpected disaster, but which still do.  I don't usually say out loud that the holidays are really filled with a combination of joy and grief, of contentment and great fear, of hope and anxiety.
           But this year a number of situations converged that made me realize that owning this reality might be helpful to other people too.  The first situation was an increase in the number of parishioners, just in the last week, who are in the hospital, who are facing serious illness and, in a couple cases, maybe even death.  This tends to happen around the holidays, by the way, and this year, the difference of a week made that very clear.  I also saw on Facebook a very well written article by someone talking about the visitor of grief that comes every holiday as she reflects on the death of a parent.  And her words, "I hope this year that my uninvited visitor (grief) will not come," rang so true for me that it has given me the courage to name my own reality out loud.
          This December sixth will mark eight years since our house was raided, our lives flipped on their heads, a well-kept secret brought into our awareness in an unbearable way, and a new reality created for my whole family.  And while on a day to day basis we live our lives well, we go about each day and each week and each month with joy and challenges and opportunities and possibilities, with healing and hope; there are certain things that happen around the holidays that always bring up for me those unbidden, unwanted and difficult feelings of fear and grief (in particular), of memories unsought and undesired.
           I don't talk about this because after eight years, shouldn't this be a thing of the past?  And yet, I would never tell another person that this should be true for them.  There are things we don't "get over," things that simply become part of the DNA of who we are, what our lives have become, and what we believe and feel. There are feelings that are permanently connected to times and seasons and situations.  And while they change, and they do, they never leave us, they never fail to make an appearance, they never let us forget that they are now part of our beings.
         I know I'm not alone in this.  Holidays especially bring up grief, pain, loss, memories for people.  This is a large part of why the suicide rate is so high around holidays.  Holidays are hard as well as beautiful, challenging as well as joyful,  and full of reminders of loss, as well as opportunities to celebrate what we have now.
         But I believe that all feelings, all memories, all recollections are also gifts.  In my case, these uncomfortable holiday feelings allow me to remember not only what was lost, what was incredibly tragic, what was an absolute nightmare; but also to remember the strength - both inner and what was given to us by others - that saw us through such a difficult time.  It is a chance to reflect again on the love of people who were beyond kind, the strong presence of God that carried us in so many, many concrete ways through a crisis I could not have faced otherwise, and the surprising inner courage and stubborn determination that helped me to care for my children especially, and to continue to be pastor to a congregation during an unbelievably difficult time.  These memories and feelings also help me to focus now with much greater gratitude than I might otherwise choose on the amazing gifts of the life that is mine today, on where I have come to from where we are.  Third, they invite me to create something each holiday that is indeed different and new and all about the present, rather than the past.  And finally, they force me to slow down for a moment, to spend some time in continuing to heal, to breathe, to BE while all the rush of the season zooms on around me.  These are gifts worth accepting, even from the unwanted visitors of uneasy memories and painful feelings of fear, anxiety and grief.
      This year, therefore, I'm choosing to welcome the past memories and challenging feelings rather than trying to shove them out the door.  I am choosing to be grateful for their presence and to take the time to hear what they have to say to me, to open the gifts they have brought, even if I do not want them at first, and to appreciate what they offer.
       For those for whom the holidays are hard, I invite you to take this journey with me.  Don't run from the pain, but invite it to teach you and to care for you at a deeper level.  Together, we can accept this invitation into growth.