Christmas Day

The day starts.

Not badly,  but not great either.

Our daughter comes into our bedroom.  She is upset because she couldn't sleep last night.  We hug her, whisper, murmur reassurances.  She is afraid that she will be sick and Christmas will be ruined.  But, she is O.K.

Nana is downstairs already, so we come down briefly say "Merry Christmas."

Then daughter and I and Molly head up to wake up sonny boy.  Molly leaps on him, wildly happy to see him, licking his face in ecstatic abandon.  He is cajoled, slowly but surely awake, time to join the family, come downstairs and begin the Christmas rituals.

I go down again, while sweet girl waits for her brother.  They must proceed down the stairs with Daddy filming their descent. This is the tradition.

I find Nana, she is crying.  She is missing her hubby - now gone for the second Christmas.  I hold her, tell her it's alright, wrap her in whatever comfort I can give.

The kids come down, their procession charged with the excitement this morning always brings. We open stockings.

Then it is time for the Christmas story.

The real reason we celebrate this day.  Christ born to us.  A gift.  So precious. Inestimable.  A Savior born this day.  For  me, for you.  For all of us.  Everyone. Every, single, one, of us.  For don`t we need saving everyday, every moment? Don`t we all need to know that Christ`s love is bigger than anything we could ever face?  His Love, love that is bigger than any wrong done to us or wrong we have committed.

I read quietly, clearly, with voice lifted, this Christmas story. It is about my Jesus, clothed in swaddling clothes, wrapped in helplessness, so that He could offer help to all of us so helpless.  Wrap us in strength for each day.  Wrap us in mercy and in great grace.


No magic here - no breath to blow problems, agonies, disease, sickness and disappointments away. No.

No magic.

But in Christ, the Magnificent Mystery, we worship though we may weep long and hard, low and deep.


This is what I believe.

So breakfast is ready and we move to the table.  We eat fruit salad, luscious berries, pineapple, banana.  Then breakfast casserole, rich, thick and cheesy, with bacon.  We are chatting and enjoying the moments.

Then dinner is mentioned and that we are going to Auntie`s.  A hard stare is passed down the table.  Eye to eye I see sonny boy, I listen as he announces with jaw clenched that he will not be joining us there.

A pall falls over the kitchen.  The cheer of the morning extinguished - immediately.

I looked up the meaning of the word ``pall`` -  one of it`s meanings and the one that applied in that moment -
``anything that covers, shrouds, or overspreads, especially with darkness or gloom.`` (Dictionary.com)

And that was it exactly, room`s light blotted out, gloom shrouded.

We don`t argue or fuss about it.  We know that is pointless. We just continue on. Brighten up as we will for all of our sake`s, the smiles, the presents and so on.

Later we head over to Auntie`s. Then it hits me.  It starts in my toes, works up to ankles, shins, thighs, stomach, chest, and finally, to eyes, that blink back silent tears. This sadness, this sorrow. This no longer merry.

We arrive, navigate greetings and I feel myself unraveling.  The wool of my grief falling - rolling madly across the room.  I escape - go to the bathroom, lock myself in, breathe deeply, find tears streaming rain from eyes crested with waves of disappointment.  No bravery here, not now.

This is hubby`s family I tell myself, they will not be angry with me, surely, they will understand.  And they do.  I, eventually, come out - sister-in-comes, sits beside me. She offers me compassion and a drink to soothe the shattering in my soul.  Tall strapping nephew, and gentle niece come into the living room, they sit and chat with me graciously and with kindness as I find my way back to equanimity.

No magic tonight.  But, yes, mystery.  I have no way to know or figure out how or when (ah, the when, it really gets to me, the waiting, the longing), the reconciliation will take place in our tiny wee family, or in this family that I married into.  I, now, joined forever with this man and his family.  If sonny boy, chooses to reject that family, I have to stand back, let go.  His choices, not mine.  Our love remains, mother to son, father to son, sister to brother.  Hubby`s family reaches out with love too, they had difficult decisions to make and they made them.  And we had made heart-rending decisions too. Only until sonny boy finds a way to sort this all out will healing be really possible.

And this is the Magnificent Mystery of Christ, born as a babe, lived as a man, died and rose again - Savior -

Savior of all my moments.
Savior of all the wires twisted, tangled tightly together,
He alone can untangle them.

In these the barbed wire agonies I lift my life,
offer my tears-
tears He treasures, in trust to Him.

I worship as
I weep, long and hard,
low and deep.