The Real Meaning of Christmas

Molly asked to turn the radio station to the station that plays Christmas music.  I hesitated.  I'd been holding her off before Thanksgiving, saying it wasn't time yet.  But finally, it was time.  Yet, I still didn't want to do it.  I told her I just didn't think I could.  "What do you mean you can't?" she asked.  I thought a minute, and I told her I guessed I was afraid.  "Afraid?  That's silly.  How could anyone be afraid of Christmas music?" Well, I thought another moment, and told her I guessed I was really afraid of how the songs would make me feel.  "Oh, because Drew's dead?" She asks bluntly, like any five year would. "Yes, that's why, " I answered.  "It's okay Mom, you don't have to be afraid."

And I decided, she was right.  And maybe about more than just the Christmas songs.  I don't have to be afraid of how I'll feel this holiday season.  How doing all the preparations, going through all the motions, continuing with favorite traditions, will make me feel.  Will it make me sad?  Will it hurt so, so deep?  Maybe.  Probably.  But maybe not sometimes too.  And if it does, is it any worse than normal?  Any worse than what I've felt in the course of the last year?  I guessed not.  And I turned the station on.  And you know?  The first song--"Happy Holidays" by NSYNC didn't make me sad at all.  I like that song!  (don't judge...).  I sang along, and it was okay.

But songs came on during our half hour drive that did make me feel sad-- The Veinna Boys Choir, with the orchestra singing Cannon in D.  Is Drew singing in a choir like that this year?  Is his voice among the beautiful ones in Heaven singing carols to Jesus?  The little drummer boy, oh! I'm sure Drew's going to town on his little drum...And it went on like that for a few songs.... and I cried.  But you know what?  It was okay to cry too.

And as a few more songs came on about baby Jesus, I got to thinking about the real meaning of Christmas anyway.  It's not about putting a tree up together, watching the joy of children opening presents and looking at twinkling lights.  It's not just about making cookies and pies, sending out Christmas cards, and visiting Santa.  It's not even all about spending time with family and friends, as much as we all enjoy that.  And I realized that if I just focus on those things, and how all of them will be so painfully different this year without Drew, it will for sure be an awful Christmas.

What is it really about?  What is the point?  Celebrating the birth of Jesus.  Remembering the miracle of all miracles--Jesus, son of God, born of a virgin, to die and save the world.  It's the reason we're able to have any joy at all in this terribly unfair world, and especially during this very special season.  And that, THAT, I decided I could celebrate.  All those prayers for a miracle in Drew that were said a year ago, which seemed to go unanswered in this age, I believe in my heart were answer in that past age, when Jesus was born into this world to save us all.  I can rejoice this season if I remember that.  That the God who created all things, loved us so much He sent His only Son to save us.  Not merely to save our earthly lives from horrible things like cancer, but to save our very souls for all of eternity.  Joy to the World, indeed.

And in the van that day, I realized this.  I got over my fear of how I'd feel, and left myself open.  I was sad, but in a more unguarded state, God reminded me what we still have to celebrate, what can bring me joy, despite my current sorrow.  He showed me how I can get through this season, without all of my family together at Christmas--by focusing on what it's really all about, not just what we've made it to be in our culture.

And as Hark the Herald came on, it sunk in how wonderful this Christmas will be for Drew.  Someone gave me an ornament sometime last year which we hung last weekend, which had a poem on the back:

"This is the greatest Christmas That I've ever had"  Yes, its my first Christmas without Drew, but it is Drew's first in Heaven!  I can just imagine the delight, the joy, the wonder in his eyes as he gets to watch the celebration unfold in the Heavenlies and be a part of it.  He had so much joy when Santa came to visit us last year, how much more joy will he have when he beholds the face of Jesus and sits on His lap this Christmas?

And he's not alone, he'll be surrounded by more family than I will!  Great Grandpas and Grandmas and so many others will get to watch, will get to experience that with him.  And I can smile about that.  I can be happy for him.

As I watched Molly sing along to Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer in my rearview mirror that day, it also reminded me how much I don't want to miss with Molly this Christmas.  How much more of a tragedy it would be if I was so distracted by who isn't here this Christmas, that I miss who is.  At almost 6, and a very rational thinker, she already is asking a lot of questions and coming to conclusions on her own about the Elf on the Shelf and Santa.  It very well may be the last year we can even pretend like we believe in that kind of magic at Christmas.  And I know now, there are no second chances.  There are no guarantees of a next year.  I have to fight to stay present this year despite how much my heart aches, for Molly.

So I'll enjoy watching her get her face painted and giggle because of how much it "tickles", before she isn't interested anymore...

And I'll ride on the horse drawn carriage with her at the Christmas in the City festival, before she doesn't want to ride it with her old Mother anymore..

And I smiled from ear to ear at how adorable she looked before her Kindergarden Christmas concert, and watched proudly as she did all the actions to songs...

But even if I stay focused, even if I do a good job of remembering the reason for the season, I know certain moments, certain events and certain songs will still cause that deep ache in my heart to flair up (like Jingle Bells).  As we put our tree up, certain ornaments made me cry.  While I watched Molly on stage at that Christmas concert, I couldn't help but realize that I'll never see Drew as a Woodson Critter singing about snow pants. And I'm sure as I make my Christmas cookies and pies without the sweetest little helper,  I'll probably cry again. Life has taught me that you can be presently sad, yet still have joy.  They aren't mutually exclusive.  I'm determined to show during this season how that's possible.

I'll keep reminding myself the reason we can rejoice this Christmas every day.  Because I've also learned it really is a daily battle, not a one time decision to "Choose Joy".  I can be sad about who's not here, I can grieve at the loss of what I thought I'd get to experience with both the children I brought into this world, but I can still celebrate this season.  I can still have joy in my heart, because of the miracle of a little baby, born over 2000 years ago.