Ross and I spent Christmas Eve in the hospital.
Well, only a few hours, really. That morning, as we were rushing to get ready to visit his parents for lunch, Ross received a disturbing e-mail from his mom. In a nutshell, she said that Ross's dad may have had a mini-stroke, and they were in the hospital, and not to come visit because they weren't home. Naturally, we made plans to visit the hospital at once. We were encouraged by a call from Ross's dad, who tried to make light of the situation as best he could.
I won't get into all the details here, but suffice it to say that, being the holiday, John did not really get the care he needed. An MRI was promised on Christmas Eve and, as of Cindy's update last night, it still hadn't been done. He will likely be in the hospital for several more days.
Ross spent a lot of time being reflective the past few days. Although we had a really wonderful Christmas dinner with my family (it was a pajama party - I have awesome relatives!), I could tell that he was thinking about his dad. And who could blame him? Two of our good friends lost parents in the past few months. A former co-worker of mine lost her grandmother around the same time. We buried a friend from church two weeks ago who was about John's age. And, of course, this year we had two miscarriages.
Of course it was scary to think of losing him.
I got to thinking that is has been a miserable year for so many of my friends. Divorce, death, disappointment, job loss, broken relationships, political upheaval, busted vehicles, and of course, increasingly horrifying news stories, like those out of Connecticut and Oregon, have been on a seemingly endless parade through our lives. I don't know why. In a strange way, I feel comforted. I know that I was not alone in my grief this year. That isn't to say I'd wish loss or destruction on anyone else, of course.
It's just that Christmas has always been a hard time of the year for me, like it is for so very many people. It's a myth, I think, that only unmarried or otherwise lonely people become depressed around the holidays. What about those who have lost a dear friend or relative, or a child - especially those who are experiencing their first Christmas without that person? Those who are missing servicemen or women who are deployed? Those who have been through a divorce, regardless of whether they have remarried? Even those who are questioning their faith for one reason or another - the sweet and hopeful message of Christmas can be a difficult one to understand or accept.
This Christmas should have seen us with a beautiful baby girl. Olivia would have been 10 months old - the perfect age to enjoy her first Christmas. Old enough to smile, giggle, and babble at relatives, but young enough to cuddle and pass from aunt to aunt. Yet that isn't how we spent our holiday, and I don't think I will ever know why.
Still - I am grateful that my family is growing closer through our losses. My uncle lost both his parents last year, and Ross and I offered out home for Thanksgiving dinner. It might have been one of the best things we could have done for the family. Since then we have been spending more time with my dad, step-mum, aunt, uncle, and Gram - it's really all I have left. My sisters are out of town and my mother is out-of-state. My grandmother's brothers and sisters have all passed away, and my aunt and uncle never had children. I don't have first cousins. It's only seven of us. But we're continuing to grow closer. I am deeply grateful for that. There isn't any of that holiday drama surrounding us - unless my dad gets peevish and wants to discuss a hot political topic over coffee...but those conversations are becoming more rare as we realize that spending precious time together is far more important than being "right" politcally or morally. Fortunately, we all know and love Jesus and find our hope in Him. It's He alone who has been our strength this past year, even when we have felt faint and weak.
I have, many times this year, felt like a ghost. We taught the kids around Halloween that there are no such things as ghosts - at least, not like the ghosts Hollywood tells us about. Yet, it is that very image I feel I have been portraying...listless, pale, caught between two worlds and unsure of how to move forward.
In the year ahead, I am praying that this "ghostly" feeling is replaced by the power and conviction of the Holy Spirit, and that I, and my friends, are given new strength to forge ahead. I think another year like this one will utterly break me. I can admit that now. Although my faith is still strong, trust me - it's been shaken these past long months. I keep returning to that place of "Why, God?" and I get no answer. I don't know that I ever will in this lifetime. But that's not as depressing as it sounds.
This year has also brought with it a new infusion of hope. Because of my faith, the very thing that has been shaken and bruised and battered of late, I believe that there is an infinity beyond this life. God has given me a greater sense of eternity this year. I cannot see or comprehend "forever", yet it exists simultaneously with "now" - at least to God, for whom time is no barrier. It's so difficult to put into words, but there is an odd and deep sense of peace that comes to me when I think of eternity. I know it makes some people anxious, or confused, or irritated. Many people - even those who believe as I do - live their whole lives without actually contemplating it. Some dismiss it entirely. Yet because I have contemplated it, and studied it, and believe in it, I have been rewarded with the promise of seeing my children, who died before they were born. I have the promise of dancing with Linda at the throne of Christ. I have the promise of seeing my friends' parents and telling them "You raised some darn amazing kids!"
I have the promise of life everlasting. I need that to be my focus for 2013. Health for now, and hope for eternity.
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