In some ways, it feels like an eternity and other days it feels like a horrid yesterday. As I sit waiting for a funeral to happen this close to Christmas I can’t help be struck by my own Mother’s passing. Today’s Mother and Grandmother died suddenly and within a few days of getting sick as did mine.
This isn’t the first time I have felt the emptiness of my Mom’s presence this season. It seems as though each day has a moment where a sinking feeling drops my heart to my shoe. Christmas baking, Christmas music and of course presents; they all point me back to her. Christmas was always bittersweet for my Mom. She loved the season but always felt the lack of money to make it the way she wanted. Little did she realize, though we told her constantly, that we loved Christmas no matter what. Christmas was us, it was family. It was being at both sets of grandparents. It was the candlelight and Christmas lights the pierced into the evening. No matter how old I got or what Christmas parties I went to, I wanted to be home for Christmas eve as much as I could. I loved being there, just being.
The next hard thing is a baby was born to my brother’s family this month. Of course, my Mother would hold and spoil and sing to this child and that void is impossible to fill, nor does anyone expect it filled. No, it remains a void and should remain a void. The void reminds us that a special woman is missing this Christ. A woman who would give the chance for a diamond to let her kids have a life.
Of course, this reminds me of the Father, who gave up his diamond, his own son, Jesus. He sent him to be this cute feeble human baby, susceptible to death. His life and his awful death are more than generous to let us be a part of his kingdom. The great news in all of this is that Jesus didn’t stay dead. This is now our hope. This is the hope of Christmas. We feel death but need not fear it.
So, not fearing death this Christmas, I still feel it. This feeling reminds me of hope in Jesus. This bittersweet feeling reminds me of Mom. The bitterness of her being gone is in tension with the sweet memories that this hurt brings to mind. The bitterness of Jesus’ death is in tension with the sweet eternal acceptance that this hurt brings into existence.
For His Kingdom 