Thursday, December 27, 2018

Five Years (12-24-18)

(Written on the fifth anniversary of my husband's passing--Christmas Eve 2018)

Five years. I redo the math every time I think about it or say it because it doesn't seem possible. How can it have really been five years? Grief is strange, and words feel so inadequate, but I feel compelled to write them anyway.

Love endures, but it's hard to miss the physical expressions of it-- the light in the eyes of a smile and laugh like no one else's, the comfort of a hug, a strong hand that could envelop mine with security and love, a shoulder to lean on at the end of the day to let everything else fade away-- all are so difficult to live without. But I'm grateful we were able to share all those and more for over 18 and a half years.

As much as the timing often seems to make the grief more difficult for me, too, really the story of Christmas has always had the juxtaposition of darkness and Light, struggle and Hope, sorrow and Joy. So every year I lean into Advent as well. When we avoid or gloss over the difficulty, we miss some of the relatability of a God who has never been afraid to come to His people in the middle of a mess. From the perfection of heaven to take the human flesh and frailty of a helpless Babe, the Savior of the world was born and placed in the bed of a manger. He became a man of sorrows and was well-acquainted with grief and suffering. All for you and me.

"Nevertheless, there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress...
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;
On those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned...
For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."
(Isaiah 9:1a, 2a, 6 NIV84)

Grateful for peace and hope in the midst of every grief ❤️