My tree is up, gifts are dutifully getting wrapped as the daily Amazon shipments come in, meals planned, schedules made….but there is a definite stiffness about it, and a constant lump in my throat that spills out frequently. I would have bought her an obnoxiously huge rocking horse and made Beal help me cover it in glittery paper and bows. I would have fluffed all the layers of her dress out across my legs as she sat on my lap at church. I would have fed her a little whip cream from my finger out of site from her parents. I would have curled up with her in a blanket at bedtime and read her the story of Jesus’ birth while running my fingertips over the dimples in her hands. I would have saved her from Santa if he scared her. Oh what lovely and painful thoughts these are.

I’ve thought a lot about my grief, and about how my Christmas has lost its shine this year. I’ve taken my complaints about this to God every day, after mechanically reading a bible chapter. This morning, after one such complaint session, I spent some time rehearsing a song for Christmas Eve service in the car on my way to work. Singing always lifts my heart, but even this has been dampened by my outlook lately.  I caught myself grumbling about it inside. As I turned a corner and headed East, the sunrise hit me in the face. The chorus of the song filled the car: “Glory, Glory, to the Light of the World….Behold your king….Behold Messiah…Emmanuel, Emmanuel.”   And in that moment, a flash filled my mind. A flash of what Christmas IS. A flash of the Light and Hope and Fulfillment that is JESUS. It has nothing to do with the bustle, or with who is physically with me and who isn’t. As I opened my mouth to join the song and tears wet my face, the Lord gifted me with the precious thought of how Charlotte is spending her first Christmas; cradled in the arms of the Messiah Himself, with the Light radiating from Him outshining anything we can plug in on earth. Whip cream from my finger pales in comparison to the banquet laid out before her, with her Grampa Jim and other loved-ones sitting around the table. The rocking horse is a team of golden-haired ponies, and the story is coming from the lips of God Himself.  As much as my heart aches for what is lost, how can I call myself a Gramma if I can’t at least appreciate the joy that surrounds her now? What do I want for my children? I want abundant Love and Peace and Joy and Contentment. I want Comfort and Safety and Warmth.  This is what I pray for every day, and admittedly lose sleep over sometimes at night. This little one has had all of that and more, right from the start. How Blessed and Favored is she? It IS her first Christmas. She’s spending it with Jesus, (who is the very definition of Christmas Himself). The grief I feel is just my frustrated love that wants to reach her. My rocking horse may not be able to get to her…but my love certainly can, and praise God for helping me remember that. This IS Charlotte’s first Christmas, and I will celebrate it by allowing God to renew the Joy of His coming in my heart and mind. That is the best gift I can give her, and she’s gonna love it. This Christmas, we again anticipate, Lord willing, Charlotte’s little sister celebrating her first Christmas with US next year. Sometimes its hard to let yourself hope, but God has given us every reason to do it.

Babies are hope of a new beginning. God knew this would make sense to us, and so came as one. The new beginning that Jesus brought was worth every ounce of praise there is. He made a way for us to be with Him. He is the answer to all my pain and fear and sorrow. Where I was once separated and without hope, I now have every reason to celebrate every day I live, AND the day I die. I have reason to hope no matter what this life brings, and I can learn to live without the fear of what that might be. I can let go. Does that hit anyone else in the guts? We can let go. The death-grip with which I cling to so many things can be released. You know when you’ve driven on icy roads for a few hours and your fingers cramp when you finally arrive home and can let go of the wheel? That’s where I am I think. God is telling me I can let go. He’s lovingly placed his hands over mine and urging me to just allow the tension to leave. He knows the cramps will happen, He knows it will be sore for a little while…He knows when I feel sudden movement, I’ll flinch and instinctively flail and grasp at the wheel again. He knows. So if you find yourself in that sad place this Christmas, don’t judge it…let it be and look to God. Even when others find it confusing and give you the “chin-up, cheerio” speech…let them and look to God. If you love presents and cookies and bows…enjoy them and look to God. If you can succeed at nothing else…When God offers a reminder of your reason to hope…let it make you hopeful. The sad and stuck place is real, and I think OK to admit to, even for Christians. Greater. Is. He… not me…. HE, who is in me. He loves, He gives, and sometimes He takes away; but the truth of His salvation is real no matter the circumstance we find ourselves in. I don’t understand it all, and my impulse to try and control causes me to beat my head against it sometimes. I don’t always trust with full confidence, and that feels awful…but praise the LORD that the Truth isn’t dependent on my ability to do it well. Praise Him that Jesus came, that I understand the Hope I can have because of it. Praise Him for not leaving me alone in my sad and for Grace and Mercy for my attitudes in it. Praise Him for caring for our precious Charlotte better than we ever could have. Praise Him for reminding me she is OK, and that she’s not gone forever. Praise Him for the hope I have for the day I get to meet her, and for the time I hope to have here with her siblings until then. Blessings to you my friends, this Christmas and always. If it’s not all joy and glitter for you, please know that God has the answer for that, and He’s offering the same Hope to you in your moment. Merry Christmas, here’s to the renewed hope that comes with it.