Feelings are fickle friends, especially around the holidays. We often look forward to attending parties, gathering around the table with loved ones, and listening to our favorite Christmas music. However, as events draw closer and December pushes to close another year, we sometimes hear the music differently. The songs that we sang jubilantly now leave us feeling melancholy. There might be several plausible reasons for this shift, or we may not know how a veiled emptiness snuck its way into our music and moments.
All have experienced the feeling of being a stranger in their own skin. When life tilts our world, we are given a different perspective no matter how valiantly we try to adjust. Some respond by RSVPing “no” to the gatherings or making excuses because the energy required to attend would seem unauthentic. And in a time when things already feel strange, the last thing needed is to compound discomfort with questions from others, small talk, or pretend everything is fine.
There is no formula for grieving or healing — no recipe to follow like there is to make Grandma’s green bean casserole or Mom’s pecan pie. Some sit out for a season to quiet themselves, to learn a new normal. Others may exhibit avoidance, hunkering down at work, and distracting themselves from themselves and others at home. Whether it be a death, divorce, separation from a loved one, diagnosis, chronic pain, or another significant change, our entire perspective tilts from the moment we first become aware, knowing life will never return to the way it was before.
During the holiday season, it is vital not to detach from our dependency on God. It is also good to remember that God created us as relational beings. I confess to writing these words as part of my struggle: I am dependent upon God, but I am often unwilling to let others know or see my wounds until I feel healed. And yet, as this article started, we know feelings are fickle friends.
Some detach because they do not wish to burden anyone, or they know their struggles are not as big as others, or maybe they do not feel that there is a safe space to share. If you are struggling, please find someone to share with: a counselor (telehealth allows you to get support without leaving your home), a clergyperson, a family member, or a trusted colleague or friend. Accept their help and hospitality. In doing so, another shift will commence, and the veiled emptiness that snuck its way into the music and moments will eventually be revealed, recognized, and released. It may or may not entirely leave our orbit, but the trajectory will right itself enough so that our world feels like it is moving from a standpoint that we can learn to walk without feeling so heavily weighted.
Jesus came to us in a messy manger. Nothing much has changed. Jesus still comes to us in our mess. As we focus on the birth of Christ our Savior, may we be reminded that the GREAT I AM created us. And our Creator takes care of His children. We are never alone.
Even if we silently mourn the ones who are missing from the table or struggle because life does not look as we planned, we can be honest with where we are and still have hope. We can be grateful for God’s unfailing promises. We can also be real in our gratitude, knowing that hope does not equate to happiness every moment. But the peace of knowing Jesus came, lived, died, rose, and will return for His children gifts us something more valuable than the feeling of temporal happiness. This truth is the real present: eternity with Christ because of His grace upon grace.
Tiffany Kaye Chartier
SGLY, dear reader.
(Smile, God Loves You.)
Tiffany Kaye Chartier, Author 