I wrote some Advent reflections back in summer and fall, because I feel too overwhelmed in the holiday. This year, apparently, I decided to write about emotions–the lack of them, or having the kind we don’t want. Also, wow: I am a little melancholic at Christmas. I hope it provides space for you to let this time be anything it needs to be–complicated, joyful, melancholic, or lovely. He is here, whether we’re ready for him or not.
I was confused when my first Christmas after I got married made me weep.
My new husband and I were in Ojai, an idyllic small town on the California coast. I’d enjoyed my new in-laws’ gracious hospitality, opened up gifts on Christmas Eve, and now, waited to go to the midnight Christmas jazz service my musician father-in-law led.
But instead of chatting with everyone, I snuck off to the spare bedroom. I told myself I just wanted to be alone for a minute.
However, when I got into the bedroom and shut the door, I started to weep.
It’s unsettling to sob when you’re not sure what you’re sad about. I wracked my brain for a reason.
The holiday, so far, could not have gone any better. I felt welcome. I was married to a man I loved. And outside, in the crisp air, the constellations shone, clear-cut. Christmas was, so far, just about perfect.
So why was I crying?
I struggled to find a thought that might lead me to the center of my sadness.
It wasn’t the standard ache to be away from my family. After all, we didn’t ever have Christmas together—
That’s when it hit me. This happy, easy gathering was the norm for my husband. For me, though, a happy family gathering was something unimaginable. The last time all five members of my family were together at Christmas, I was twelve.
For me, a Christmas filled with family feels weird.
What strikes me a decade later is how alone my realization made me feel.
It seemed so wrong to grieve on Christmas.
Alone in the spare bedroom that night, I worried my mother-in-law would think I was ungrateful if she heard me crying. Later, when I tried to explain my sadness to my husband, he was genuinely puzzled.
What was wrong with me?
I felt horrified to fall out of step with Christmas cheer.
But looking back, I’ve realized that grief, oddly enough, should always be part of Christmas.
Look, all of us have our holiday baggage. Personally and globally, we all lament about the uncomfortable mismatch between our hopes and our circumstances. How many times have our Christmas celebrations overlapped with some reminder of the darkness on earth?
But instead of tamping down our tears, Advent invites us to notice them. Why? Because we celebrate not a magical season, but a Savior who is needful in every moment.
The ache that bewilders us is Him knocking, waiting to be let into this holiday’s grief, dysfunction, injustice, or crisis. The ache is an invitation to open our eyes both to the salvation we cherish, and the fact that we have not yet left the land of the shadow of death.
Without the ache, Christmas cheer is sentimentality. It’s cheap as discount wrapping paper, and as easily torn.
I love Isaiah’s songs about Christ because they remind me that all prophets express joy alongside grief, lament, and mourning. Yes, he says that a Son has been given to us, but also that wickedness burns like a fire.
I’ve learned that the more deeply I feel my losses during Advent, the more I rejoice in Christ’s power. The more I’m willing to weep about suffering, the more God’s beatitude power rises. The more I acknowledge my own grief, the more I’m knit together with the pain of all God’s children.
Only then is my yearning for happy endings grounded in reality. Only when I notice the darkness can I really celebrate the Light that pierces its gloom.
If you’re looking for other melancholic but grace-filled posts about Advent, might I recommend those by Tanya Marlow and Nicole T. Walters at The Mudroom? I feel like we were all drinking the same Kool-Aid egg nog this year.
Image credit: Philippa Willitts
Tanya Marlow
Here’s to drinking the same eggnog! I’m glad you were able to grieve at Christmas. I reckon Jesus’ first sounds as an incarnate human were crying, after all. Much love xx
Heather Caliri
“No crying he makes….” No. And no and no. Thanks, Tanya 🙂
JennaDeWitt
It seems like Christmas is so layered with expectations, many of which are good in intention, but center on being blissfully surrounded by friends and family. It’s so hard when the idyllic family isn’t a reality and friends are far away. Grief is so woven throughout this Bible story, yet our cheery reds and greens hardly reflect that at all. So American of us, so human.
Heather Caliri
And when family is working well, and the candles are going, it’s so lovely! Yes! But it’s just a small slice of the meaning of the holiday, and not what the celebration is really about. Yes yes yes. Thank you for this, friend.
Nancy Gladwin
Thank you for being real. I just started my blog October 1 and I struggle with letting the words go….I just happened on your blog today and appreciate your transparency. Thank you.
Heather Caliri
Hey, Nancy, thanks! Gosh, yes–it was a struggle for me to write my way into my voice and subject matter–when I first started I thought “anything but faith.” when I was trying to chose my theme 🙂 I hope you have a fruitful journey into where God is calling you to write!
Colleen Cunningham
I loved reading this today. Tonight I was going to go to an event at church–how to deal with grief during the holidays. Thing I grieve about this time of year is not having had kids and so I’ve been developing my relationships with my nieces and nephews … but out of the blue one of my nieces asked me if we could get together tonight so I’m going to do that instead. Coincidence?! 😉
For the last few years I helped put on a service at another church for those who grieve during the holidays called Blue Christmas. My part was reading the beginning of John 1, including “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.” I love that because it doesn’t deny the darkness that, like you said, is a natural part of the holidays. But it does affirm the light!
Heather Caliri
Oh, I love the surprise of having your niece reach out to you as you were preparing for the service 🙂 I hope your time together is rich and satisfying. Having not had much contact with my extended family as a kid, _thank you_ for being a mentor and a resource to yours.
I love your take on John 1. I think much of the Bible is pretty realistic about the reality of suffering–it’s more the American version of it that charms us into thinking it’ll be all happy. Its one of the things I’ve grown to love about the Word.