A Different Kind Of Christmas

This post was originally published on December 13, 2016. It needed to be published again for the precious heart of someone who is grieving this Christmas.

I passed their house almost every day.
It was a typical colonial house with a front porch.
I never turned my head towards the house except at Christmas time.
The spotlight on the front lawn helped call attention to what was intended to be a focal point.

A wicker settee and two chairs could easily be passed over on any given day.
However, at Christmas time the settee became the resting place for Mr. and Mrs. Claus.
The festive couple were not gaudy in any way.
Actually, as the Claus couple go, they were quite subdued.

With candles in every window and greens in baskets tied with bows, there was much to see.
The spotlight seemed to accentuate the rosy cheeks of Mr. and Mrs. Claus.
The spotlight gave the illusion of smiling faces.
I am sure that every child who passed by thought they were smiling right at them.

I looked forward to seeing Mr. and Mrs. Claus on the wicker settee every Christmas.
One year, they were not there.
That year there were no candles in the windows or fresh greens in baskets tied with bows.
That year there was no spotlight; the house seemed lonely and dark.

Years ago, we passed a house on the way to church.
It was an old stone farmhouse.
Every Sunday morning I saw him sitting in the window.
Every Sunday morning he sat in the window reading his newspaper.

I could set a clock by him.
Perhaps, he could set a clock by us as well.
He never knew I saw him each week.
It was actually comforting to see him there.

I remember remarking to my husband, I will worry about him if I don’t see him in his chair.
Of course to me, that obscure statement made perfect sense.
But to my husband, who cannot read my mind, the statement needed clarification.
In the following weeks, my husband would say, there he is, since he started to notice him, too.

One week, we passed by the house and the man was not sitting in his chair.
There was no newspaper to be seen.
The chair was empty.
My heart hurt.

We prepare for the holiday season with joy in our heart.
We ready our hearts for Christmas.
The joy is palpable.
However, for some, the joy is buried under sadness, disappointment, and grief.

For those precious ones, Christmas is difficult.
A chair is empty.
A spotlight would only accentuate the pain.
It is a new normal and it is hard.

My mother had died in April of my fifteenth year.
Christmas had been four months before.
Christmas would not come again for another eight months.
I missed my mother terribly but the pain in those eight months had lessened a bit.

I was at the grocery store right before Christmas.
I saw someone that knew my mother.
I had not seen this person in quite a while.
She had not known that my mother had died.

How’s your Mom doing? She asked after some small talk.
I could feel my cheeks and neck getting red like they usually do when I’m emotional.
My mother died in April, I told her.
I could see the shock and the pain in her face.

There were no words.
Only teary eyes and a voice that would barely allow her to speak.
She hugged me awkwardly and said her goodbyes.
I received a card and a wonderful handwritten note that next week.

I walked away and searched my emotions.
I was surprised that I felt more upset for her than I did for me.
It was then I knew that I was healing.
It was then I knew that the weight of a tremendous loss and emptiness was finally lifting.

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. (Revelation 21:4)

The old order will one day end.
Chairs will not be empty.
Spotlights will only focus on what is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, and excellent.
Those things will be the things we think of; sadness and grief will be no more.

Until then, we wait.
Until then, we have teary eyes and the inability to speak.
Until then, our comfort is temporary.
Until then, sadness always waits in the wings, waiting to come onstage.

But one day, there will be Resurrection.
But one day, there will be Glory.
But one day, there will be unending Joy.
But one day, we will see our Lord Jesus face to face.

He is there with His nail scarred hands.
Can you see him?
He holds something in His hand.
With the soft, red tinged cloth, He dries your tears.

He redeemed those tears with His blood.
He destroyed death and swallowed it in victory.
He rose again as the first fruit.
We know that in Him, we also will rise.

Glory abounds.
Joy abounds.
There are no empty chairs at His table.
And we will live with Him forever.

2 responses to “A Different Kind Of Christmas”

1. Praise the Lord for His comfort and promises! How blessed we are that this is not our only life, it is just a small part of it and we will see our loved ones forever in heaven.

   Reply

   • Amen, Sue!

     Reply