it's impossible to escape the christmas season...
in years past i delighted in the abundance of lights, snow, christmas music, watching classic christmas cartoons, cutting down our christmas tree, opening up stockings, wrapping gifts.
but now it feels sorta of like i'm in a foreign country...i don't understand the language or the culture. i'm "okay" being out of place but i've been wondering what can it look like to enter into the season of advent with my grief.
cause when it comes down to it christmas at it's heart, for me, for mike, is about hope. about the arrival of Christ, new life, fresh start. so how does this stand in contrast with my life, my loss?
this weekend i found some thoughts on advent that spoke a little to my heart...
Isaiah 64:1-9
O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!
Advent becomes a time when our longing merges with the longing of God. It’s a time of watching in anticipation for the coming of God’s promised reign. It’s a time of waiting for God to set things right.
Walter Brueggemann has written that Advent is a community of hurt. Advent “is the voice of those who know profound grief, who articulate it and do not cover it over. ... And because the hurt is expressed to the One whose rule is not in doubt, this community of hurt is profoundly a community of hope.”
The people who celebrate Advent are those who are not afraid to name the hurt that engulfs them. Advent is for those who refuse to numb themselves with placid thoughts of a better day. It is for those for whom all hell is breaking loose and who have turned their life in every direction imaginable, looking for some help to come, only to find themselves shouting with Isaiah: “God, you do something about this! Tear open the heavens and come down here and do something. God, just do something to end the hurt.”
“Do something, God, to bring peace.”
“Do something, God, to heal my family’s brokenness.”
“God, do something to let me keep my job.”
“Do something to take away the anger that is consuming me.”
“Do something to break the hold grief has on me.”
Whenever we discover that the world isn’t what we or God imagined it would be, when we recognize the hurt, we call out to God in hope that God will do something to set things right.
(John P. Leggett)
i don't know that i feel the hope yet...in fact i rely on others to bear hope for me. but i am encouraged to know that i can enter into the christmas season with my hurt, knowing that God will receive my ache, my pain, my grief as a longing for peace, as a call for Him to come.
in years past i delighted in the abundance of lights, snow, christmas music, watching classic christmas cartoons, cutting down our christmas tree, opening up stockings, wrapping gifts.
but now it feels sorta of like i'm in a foreign country...i don't understand the language or the culture. i'm "okay" being out of place but i've been wondering what can it look like to enter into the season of advent with my grief.
cause when it comes down to it christmas at it's heart, for me, for mike, is about hope. about the arrival of Christ, new life, fresh start. so how does this stand in contrast with my life, my loss?
this weekend i found some thoughts on advent that spoke a little to my heart...
Isaiah 64:1-9
O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!
Advent becomes a time when our longing merges with the longing of God. It’s a time of watching in anticipation for the coming of God’s promised reign. It’s a time of waiting for God to set things right.
Walter Brueggemann has written that Advent is a community of hurt. Advent “is the voice of those who know profound grief, who articulate it and do not cover it over. ... And because the hurt is expressed to the One whose rule is not in doubt, this community of hurt is profoundly a community of hope.”
The people who celebrate Advent are those who are not afraid to name the hurt that engulfs them. Advent is for those who refuse to numb themselves with placid thoughts of a better day. It is for those for whom all hell is breaking loose and who have turned their life in every direction imaginable, looking for some help to come, only to find themselves shouting with Isaiah: “God, you do something about this! Tear open the heavens and come down here and do something. God, just do something to end the hurt.”
“Do something, God, to bring peace.”
“Do something, God, to heal my family’s brokenness.”
“God, do something to let me keep my job.”
“Do something to take away the anger that is consuming me.”
“Do something to break the hold grief has on me.”
Whenever we discover that the world isn’t what we or God imagined it would be, when we recognize the hurt, we call out to God in hope that God will do something to set things right.
(John P. Leggett)
i don't know that i feel the hope yet...in fact i rely on others to bear hope for me. but i am encouraged to know that i can enter into the christmas season with my hurt, knowing that God will receive my ache, my pain, my grief as a longing for peace, as a call for Him to come.
4 comments:
Dear Kelly,
Your post touched my heart. It was a heartfelt message that I shared tonight with my GriefShare group at BHBC. Our family continues to pray for you and we are holding on to the hope for all of you, especially during this season.
My first husband died in 2000. My second Christmas without him was in 2001. That was the year of national grief and mourning after 9/11. In a strange and unique way, I felt communal companionship in my grief journey for the first time in nearly two years. Many were openly grieving that year. It was almost foreign to NOT feel sadness and loss.
Your writing is a gift to all who read. Please continue to share the raw emotion you feel. It is very important for you and those who care for you.
I hope to meet you someday. I love your in-laws, Mike and Debbie. They are dear friends to my family.
Blessings to you...
I was trying to find the verse that someone read to my Mom in the hospital. It was a mother of a friend who had come to Lansing to pray with my Mom. I remember thinking that my mother was going to be fine, and with the prayer of this woman who was very strong in her faith, the healing process was sure to begin. But then she read this Psalms (and I can't find it although I kept coming back to Psalm 88 in my search-which made me think of you) I remember thinking "oh man, this was not the direction I saw this going."
Anyway, I remember my first Christmas. I remember dreading it, wishing it would pass on by. Thankfully that Christmas JJ worked Christmas Eve and Christmas night overnight shifts and Annika had a fever that would not respond to Tylenol so I spent the whole day taking her temperature and spent a few hours in the med center. It definitely didn't seem like Christmas, but I couldn't handle Christmas. I needed to survive Christmas that year, and through the chaos, we were able to get through it.
Living down here, I see pictures of Mike or think about you two and I feel the shock of his death all over again. It is so surreal. It makes no sense.
In Psalm 88, the author cries out for help in the depths of his anguish and then in the next Psalm, the Lord is praised. I know that this chapter of your life is a day to day survival, but know that there will be a chapter again where you will feel joy again.
My Dad and Marie have a couple books I will have to get to you over Christmas, but I hope you will consider attending the young widows group after the holidays, I think it would be a helpful part of your journey.
Thank you for your post Kelly. I still pray for you every day.
He IS with you, He is near. This must truly be the toughest season of your life but He WILL see you through. You will be granted the peace you long for!
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