The Christmas I didn’t feel like celebrating

December had just arrived when I got the call that Grandma was gravely ill. I knew this day would come—for she was now in her 90’s, but nothing would ever replace the sound of her voice, the hard work of her hands, or the faith she expressed in her words.

I felt defeated and somehow sensed I was losing more than my grandma, I would be losing someone who had known me from my birth and helped me see things I sometimes missed.

The holiday spirit might have been happening around me, but it didn’t arrive in my heart. The carols were playing but I didn’t hear the music. The twinkling lights were strung everywhere I looked, but I couldn’t bring myself to open up the boxes of decorations for my own home. I didn’t feel like celebrating. It wasn’t the same and I didn’t want to pretend that it was.
Just 10 days before Christmas she passed on. Her journey here was over. When I considered her life and all that she had seen, she had to have been tired and ready to go Home. Her wish was to be buried next to Grandpa in their beloved Hawaii. I made the arrangements. Visiting paradise at Christmas, without any joy for the journey.

Hawaii greeted my family with holiday décor well beyond the scope of Macy’s imagination. I wasn’t moved by its splendor, nor did the incessant Christmas music touch me. It was the season to be jolly and I wanted it all to go away. At Grandma's grave I said goodbye and we flew back late Christmas Eve.
Arriving home Christmas morning, I opened the door and finally had my wish. There were no decorations, no tree, and no presents to be seen. No Christmas tunes played. Silence. It was as bleak as I felt. And then, I sensed Grandma.

I closed my eyes and stood still, listening with my heart. I thought about all of Grandma’s Christmas celebrations that she’d had, regardless of crop failure or finances or feelings. I had chosen to take the spirit of Christmas away from my family and me. I sensed Grandma telling me that Christmas should never be about my feelings. It's about our Savior. Even though there may be seasons of sadness, or poverty, or pain, the light should always shine upon that miraculous Bethlehem Birth.

It may have been a little late to decorate now, but I could light up my heart and give cheer to the family who had gathered together to celebrate the real reason for Christmas. I whispered to Grandma, that no matter what might happen in my journey ahead, I would always remember to honor His birth. I could sense that she was smiling.

Popular posts from this blog

Counting the Cost

Image
Something big is missing in this photo. Let me explain. Here in my hometown, the Lower Elwha Klallam Tribe prepared a parcel of land for a new hotel. Plenty of planning and architectural designs were evaluated. A gemstone of a hotel would be built across from the waterfront—a beautiful, restful place welcoming travelers. A true four-star facility.   They cleared the aging brick structures that had been fading away between Front Street and Railroad Avenue. Then the pandemic hit, shortages of labor and supplies, add in the costly inflation that followed. Everything stopped.   But this is what I admire about the Elwha Tribe: they have counted the cost. They didn’t want to move forward and take on tremendous debt. They would rather move slowly and be financially ready, rather than begin building and then letting it sit unfinished.   Counting the cost is something I should have done earlier in life when I didn’t know what high interest rates would do to our farming cost...
Read more

Summertime Music

Image
During the summer months, in an outside seating area, a delightfully painted piano sits with a sign that says, “Play me”.   It was just before 8 pm as I walked past the piano. My bus would be arriving soon, and I still have another ten minutes to walk before reaching my bus stop. But no one is around. It’s a beautiful warm evening. I pulled out the piano bench and sat down. The sun was behind me, and the piano keys reflected its glow. I had no music in front of me, only the songs within me. Notes drifted into the air.  In those brief moments, the magic of music and summer came together. Isn’t that how it is? Summertime music has a way of lingering in our minds and lasting a lifetime. As I stood and grabbed my things, I heard distant clapping—I guess I wasn’t alone, after all.
Read more

Planting Good Seeds

Image
Harvest will always depend on what we plant and how well we care for our crop.    Looking over my seed packets, I notice they’re different than the ones I planted before. One package is called Word seeds. The directions say that each of my words is a seed, so it cautions me to think before I speak. Harsh words don’t produce sweet, nourishing fruit. These seeds will require thoughtful care in the garden. I see some Volunteer seeds. Those extra hours I tend to fritter away are going to be planted in a useful project.   It looks like time isn’t wasted in this garden plot. Next are some Love seeds—the directions are interesting: get up each day and love others. No specifics are given—just do something for someone every day. The seed package shows pictures of smiling faces. I smile back. As I’m ready to head to the garden with my seeds, a package falls to the ground. I open it. Inside are the tiniest seeds I’ve ever seen—but the directions s...
Read more