{advent: week three} Not Forgotten

Photo Credit: Jon Beall

I don’t think it was until the third year of our Advent celebration as a married couple that I started to struggle as much with the Christmas season. In the years prior, I thought “who knows where we’ll be at this time next year?” However, by the third year, my thoughts started to shift toward, “what if I do know where we’ll be at this time next year?” Still childless, still wanting, still waiting.

I think the Advent season causes those of us with a sentimental bent to latch on to it all the more. What with the cookies, the perfectly posed Christmas cards, the families all around the fireplace (or the fireplace video, if you were my family). I loved Christmas, but I was increasingly growing in my disdain for it. I knew it was a time for joy and I wanted it to be a time for joy, but my empty arms would drag just a little bit heavier during the holidays. My smile took just a little bit longer to perk on my face.

In April of 2010, we found out we were expecting our first child and if all went well, s/he would arrive on Christmas Day. The irony was not lost on me. During the 3 weeks that we had to celebrate its life with us, I experienced great sadness and great rejoicing. Our little one was lost to us by the beginning of May. We were thankful for its brief life after over 5 years of hoping, wanting, waiting.

The anticipation of that particular Advent season was heavy. We carefully scheduled out a plan for the days surrounding what would have been our child’s due date. Many of our close family and friends rallied around us. My brother pulled me aside at our family Christmas celebration and gave me a hug, told me he was so sorry. My sister-in-law texted me vigorously throughout that week from across the country. While those touches, those acts of beauty did help me get through that season, there was something much more at work that year that completely shifted my grieving.

Back in May, when we lost our little one, I knew that I would not keep on going without shifting my “I’m doing okay” mindset to that of “I can’t do this on my own.” Opening myself up to the grief that had taken hold of me for nearly six years, and bringing that grief to the Lord by His grace was His love manifest to me that Advent season. There was not a day that went by between those months of May until December 25th that I did not immediately open my Bible in the morning, that I did not pray that the Lord would see me through the tasks of the coming day. There was not a day that went by that I ever thought I was existing in my own strength.

He was beautifully preparing me for that Advent season. He was gracious to do so.

December 2010 was a memorable Advent year for us. We ended up getting caught in a terrible snow storm while leaving my parents’ house on Christmas Eve. By the time we came home, we were so thankful to have made it, we fell sound asleep. We opened a few gifts on Christmas Day together as our family of two, the perfect family of two that God had ordained for us. My husband held me while I cried for a few minutes, and then we moved on with our usual couple traditions that we had established over those past 6 years. I remember that Christmas as a beautiful day. I remember this song came on our iPod and it brought me such joy…and tears. Who said joy had to be without tears? I learned that year that they could go hand in hand.

I learned that with all of my striving to be okay, to not let the perfect family Christmas card get under my skin, I was not giving all of that to the Lord. Aside from that, I was not enjoying the beautiful family He had already so graciously provided me.

Of course my sinful nature still loves to hold onto it, still loves taking hold of the jealousy, of the grief, of the idolizing of the “perfect Christmas family.”

But God continues to be gracious, He continues to meet me in my place of need. He will continue to do so through the coming Advent seasons as well because that’s who He is. He is the strength that I need to continue on with each day.

He continues to show me the beauty of the family that He has constructed for me, in His time, in His perfect plan.

You are not forgotten this season, dear friends. Please don’t take my word for it. I can do little to offer you but words on a screen.

2 Cor. 1:7: Our hope for you is unshaken, for we know that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in our comfort.

v9. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us relay not on ourselves, but on God who raises the dead. He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again.

And in case you did not link to the song lyrics above, I’ll close with one of my favorite, simple poets of my generation, Sufjan Stevens from Christmas in the Room.

No travel plans, no shopping malls
No candy canes or Santa Claus
For as the day of rest draws near
It's just the two of us this year
No silver bells or mistletoe
We'll kiss and watch our TV shows

I'll come to you, I'll sing to you
Like it's Christmas in the room
I'll dance with you, I'll laugh with you
Until it's Christmas in the room

Kim is a fan of winter hikes with her husband of 9 years. They reside near Chicago where Kim spends her work days as a pediatric Occupational Therapist. Some of her favorite things include dark chocolate, finding new recipes to use, and spending time with her family near and far.

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