Christmas is also complicated because heavily shrouded in all the memories, are the very real and very big memories of 7 years ago. 7 years ago I was 32+ weeks pregnant with our first son, and sitting on bedrest in St. Cloud hospital. Not knowing, and naively trusting that it would all be "perfect". Not even able to grasp what a NICU stay was going to look like. Not even fully able to just embrace it and therefore be able to cope. Gotta love those hormones. I always know December brings these memories, but somehow the emotion always manages to blindside me. This morning I found myself a wreck of emotions and having a good cry as someone else's hospital picture triggered it all. That's the thing about grief, it can be dormant for months, years, and blindside you. So I have a good cry, and step forward into birthday plans for our almost 7 year old beautiful son. But even this morning, as he awoke coughing so hard he couldn't catch his breath, a symptom every winter of his prematurity, we started up the nebulizer and I tried to hold it together for him.
And I wonder.
I have to get to a place in the midst of my sorrow of thankfulness. Why sorrow? Because the picture didn't look like we thought it would. I didn't spend that Christmas fully pregnant and empathizing with Mary the mother of Jesus like I thought I would. No, I spent it pumped up on painkillers alone in a noisy and sterile NICU unit with only my husband and 1 week old baby. And I had to leave my baby there for another 10 days. Every night, saying good night and praying he'd be there in the morning. And he was relatively healthy! I can't even imagine the worse scenarios. They tell you he'll be fine, that he's a fortunate one, but you never know.
And in sorrow, I pause to remember, to be thankful that it makes me wonder and empathize with Mary after all. That thousands of years ago she too was alone on Christmas (let's not get into the semantics about the dates okay? Go with the Christmas flow here.) with no one but her husband and baby about to be born. Alone.
And this Christmas I feel the heartache of friends dealing with hospitals, with loss, wth a son still an ocean away not here celebrating with them just yet. Someone's missing from so many of our celebrations, yes? And this year, I ache a bit. We thought we'd have the anticipation of a baby. That my belly again would be swollen with a growing babe to add to our family. We hung a Christmas ornament on our tree this weekend that we bought Christmas of 2013 when I was incredibly pregnant with our given easily baby, Joel. A star, with the inscription, "A Baby is a promise for tomorrow." No promises this year, but still hope.
We've been reading Ann Voskamp's book "Unwrapping the Greatest Gift" with our kiddos every night this December. A Great Advent book. I didn't grow up with the concept of Advent, perhaps why I've fully embraced it with my kids. The anticipation, the stories, the building of hope and joy, the longing for what is to come. The comments "Mommy, the star is the end right? The star for Baby Jesus?" Yes kiddos. The star, the whole story, from creation on, it was ALL about Jesus. And the scriptures about Creation groaning make all the more sense. All through the Old Testament, the longing, the promises, the anticipation of a Savior was there. Heavy. A broken world waiting.
Last night we read about Abraham and Sarah, (we're a day behind already, don't even get me started) And the promise of a baby, and the laughter. Ann's imaginative description reads
"Abraham laughed happy. And when news of a miracle child reached the ears of his wife, Sarah, she laughed too- but Sarah laughed sad. Sarah laughed the way you do when you think someone is teasing you, and you laugh brave so you don't cry hard. Sometimes you use laughter like a shield to protect your heart. Could Sarah let down her guard and believe that God would be gentle with her dream to hold a child of her own? Sometimes when your heart hurts, your head hurts to believe."
I think we can all probably empathize with that. Will we let our guard down and believe that God will be gentle with our dreams? And then I remember, He's the giver of those dreams. I love how the story of Abraham and Sarah, of all the stories, they point to Jesus. The coming Messiah. The promise of a baby who would change the world.
The song "Mary Did You Know?" seems to always get some joking and heat during this season. "Of course she knew! The Angel told her!" But did she comprehend it all? Of course not. Could she have known all the details as the song says?
"Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day walk on water?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you've delivered, will soon deliver you?"
Somehow I don't think she imagined all those details. She knew he was the promised one, but what that would play out as and look like, probably not. We see at the crucifixion of Jesus that His mother Mary was there, ALONE, weeping. Historians tell us Joseph had died by this point. Joseph, the chosen earthly father of our Savior, NOT humanly saved from the thing we all face, death of our earthly bodies. Jesus didn't raise his own father from the dead, or heal him, as far as we can tell. And so there was Mary, alone essentially, at the cross, weeping as her promised savior is murdered. Did she know? She could hope, but she wept. And Jesus, He knew, and He cared. He told John, to care for her, that he was now her son. Could Mary have know He'd rise again? Yes, and No. We give her the grace. We are mortal and finite. We don't see the eternity always. But we have the promise.
And so, it's true. "A Baby is a promise for tomorrow." Not just our babies, but THE BABY. The Baby who would grow to be the man, who died for our sins, so that we have a hope for tomorrow.
So this Christmas, I ponder, I ache, I grieve, I remember sorrow, pain and heartache. And I hope, with joy and anticipation, for the day, when the Savior of the world will return, and the pain and sorrow will end. Advent reminds us that as the world waited for a Messiah, and groaned with the pain of it, 400 years of silence from their God?! So we wait, Not alone in silence, never again alone, we have the Holy Spirit speaking daily in us, and this world is quickly catapulting to the glorious return of that Savior. A return that will be forever, not just 33 years.
And so, as I grieve over 4 babies in heaven, not in my belly or arms this Christmas, I rejoice.
My beautiful 4 1/2 year old Daughter yesterday asked and wondered "Momma, will we celebrate Christmas in Heaven?" She stopped me in my tracks. "I'm not sure Baby, because Christmas is all about celebrating Jesus' birthday, and in Heaven we'll be with Jesus forever." She replied "Then Momma, it'll be like Christmas and a party everyday because everyday is someone's birthday and in Heaven we'll be with all the people and their birthdays!" She was right. So I replied "Emelia, do you think that Heaven will be even better than any party or Christmas or birthday or best day we could imagine?! Because we'll be with Jesus and it'll be better and a huge party every single day?!" "Yes Momma! It'll be amazing!" And it will.
Another quote from Ann's book:
"Joy is the gigantic secret gift that God gives us and we never stop unwrapping. WE were once all ALONE, but now we've been given a Child- the many-many-many-great-grandson of Abraham, the Baby Jesus. And Jesus makes us laugh because He's coming to save us and free us from all our fears."
So this Advent, we can cry, we can grieve, it's okay for it to not all be happy and excitement, but it IS JOY. We are saved. We anticipate the day the pain is gone. We DO KNOW. He's the great I AM. JESUS.
And so, it's true. "A Baby is a promise for tomorrow." Not just our babies, but THE BABY. The Baby who would grow to be the man, who died for our sins, so that we have a hope for tomorrow.
So this Christmas, I ponder, I ache, I grieve, I remember sorrow, pain and heartache. And I hope, with joy and anticipation, for the day, when the Savior of the world will return, and the pain and sorrow will end. Advent reminds us that as the world waited for a Messiah, and groaned with the pain of it, 400 years of silence from their God?! So we wait, Not alone in silence, never again alone, we have the Holy Spirit speaking daily in us, and this world is quickly catapulting to the glorious return of that Savior. A return that will be forever, not just 33 years.
And so, as I grieve over 4 babies in heaven, not in my belly or arms this Christmas, I rejoice.
My beautiful 4 1/2 year old Daughter yesterday asked and wondered "Momma, will we celebrate Christmas in Heaven?" She stopped me in my tracks. "I'm not sure Baby, because Christmas is all about celebrating Jesus' birthday, and in Heaven we'll be with Jesus forever." She replied "Then Momma, it'll be like Christmas and a party everyday because everyday is someone's birthday and in Heaven we'll be with all the people and their birthdays!" She was right. So I replied "Emelia, do you think that Heaven will be even better than any party or Christmas or birthday or best day we could imagine?! Because we'll be with Jesus and it'll be better and a huge party every single day?!" "Yes Momma! It'll be amazing!" And it will.
Another quote from Ann's book:
"Joy is the gigantic secret gift that God gives us and we never stop unwrapping. WE were once all ALONE, but now we've been given a Child- the many-many-many-great-grandson of Abraham, the Baby Jesus. And Jesus makes us laugh because He's coming to save us and free us from all our fears."
So this Advent, we can cry, we can grieve, it's okay for it to not all be happy and excitement, but it IS JOY. We are saved. We anticipate the day the pain is gone. We DO KNOW. He's the great I AM. JESUS.
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