I set up the Christmas tree. Maybe you’re waiting for the punch line. But there isn’t one.
“Yeah, so what’s the big deal?” you may be asking.
Believe me when I tell you it is a very big deal! It’s been a big deal for the last thirteen years. The last Christmas our family spent together as an entire family gathered around the Christmas tree is forever etched in my memory. We called it the “Ghosts of Christmas Past” because for some strange reason every picture we took that year was doubly exposed, making us appear as ghosts. And we were ghosts, in a figurative sense. It’s a Christmas at times I’d like to forget, but choose to remember.
A Life-Changing Diagnosis
That year, my eighteen-year-old son Ben had spent most of his four months leading up to Christmas in the hospital while we were all getting a handle on his life-changing diagnosis. Ben was the second oldest of our four children. He was at the prime of his life when he was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. He was discharged from the hospital just in time to help decorate the Christmas tree before being readmitted a week before Christmas. I spent Christmas day alone with him in the hospital while the rest of my family quarantined at home due to a nasty flu bug. We weren’t sure Ben would make it through that Christmas. Thankfully, he was discharged the second week of January and we could celebrate as a family.
The Last Christmas
Of course we didn’t know it would be our last with him. Who can ever know?
What I do know is that every Christmas since digs up fresh memories along with tales of the stories of Christmases long, long ago. It used to be the most wonderful time of the year for me. But now, it is the most difficult with the opening of every box of Christmas decorations and painstakingly setting up the tree.
Thirteen years later, every ornament hung brings a smile along with a fresh tear. I hold my breath as I gaze at the ornaments of my four kids representing the years they were growing up. Back then I collected frozen juice lids and glued a picture of them on one side with the year written on the back side. Lace or glitter frames each original ornament with a sparkling string to attach it to the tree.
I also bought a special ornament every year for each one of my children. Now that they’re grown-up, they each have their collection—except for Ben. His ornaments are still hung on our family tree. While I’m thankful for all the memories my Christmas tree holds, Christmas looks and feels very different than it used to.
Grief at Christmas
What does Christmas look like for you this year?
This has been a year-and-a-half full of unfathomable losses as a result of the pandemic. Perhaps you’ve experienced the death of a loved one to COVID-19. Grief can make it difficult to go into the holiday season. And that’s completely understandable. It’s okay to be sad and to struggle during the holidays. But, believe it or not, there is such a thing as good grief.
Good Grief
Anyone who has ventured down the unknown and unpredictable road of grief can attest to the fact that once you’ve experienced significant loss and death you will never be the same. The journey toward healing takes place when it is embraced rather than shunned, confronted rather than avoided, processed rather than stifled. When the bereft can be honest about it, work with it, and grow through it to reap valuable lessons and, in turn, use it to reach into the lives of others, that, my friend is good grief!
Perhaps you’re among those who are not only asking how any grief can be good, but how a God who claims to be good can allow suffering, pain, and loss. Good question! We’ve all asked this at one time or another. In fact, there are many questions that invade and consume our hearts and minds—especially during happy and merry occasions like Christmas.
The good news is Jesus Himself asked the question that haunts each of us when faced with an untimely and significant loss. “Why?”—as He hung on the cross—mocked, beaten, betrayed, and abandoned. The Bible tells us that Jesus was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Jesus wept at the gravesite of one of His closest friends (John 11:35). Jesus knew what the end result would be of His suffering and death, but this didn’t stop Him for grieving and asking, “Why?”
Grief can be a gift from the One who is good—the Giver of Life who has power over death. Scripture tells us the Lord is close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Because of His unconditional love and relentless mercy and grace, our good God attends to our grief. He walks with us through the valley of the shadow of death. His rod and staff comfort us. He restores our souls (Ps. 23).
If truth be told, according to Romans 8:28, God does, indeed work all things together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purposes. Nonetheless, how we define good is crucial. If we think good means pleasant, enjoyable, and pain-free, we are sadly mistaken. When we finally understand what His ultimate purpose is, we can begin to accept and embrace the good God wishes to produce in us—that is, to become like Him. And that’s where grief comes to play a significant part in producing this good through its transforming work.
One day we will attend the funeral of death at the great appearance of our Lord, Jesus. He is going to meet us at heaven’s gate and wipe every tear from our eyes! There will be no more death, mourning, crying, or pain. As it says in Revelation, the old order of things will have passed away. On that wonderful day, we’ll stand back in awe as God reveals HIS-story. One by one, the pages of our lives will be turned. This will help us make sense of our life in its proper context. In that moment, the words of Peter will come to life more than ever before. “In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire – may result in praise, glory and honour when Jesus Christ is revealed” (1 Pet. 1:6-7).
Taking Care of You in Your Grief
One of the things we did after Ben died was purchase a lantern that we could light during special occasions to be a subtle reminder of his absence. I call it the Hope Lantern. It is lit even as I write this article today, with Ben’s memory lingering in the back of my mind all these years later. And it has been a gift in my grief.
This Christmas give yourself the gift of:
- Tears. Take the time to taste the tears. They are God’s gift to you.
- Honesty. Be honest about your pain. God can handle it.
- Health. Find a healthy outlet for your grief: journaling, massage therapy, coffee with a good friend who can handle your raw pain.
- Strength. Give yourself permission to bow out of social engagements this Christmas, but don’t be afraid to join in as you’re able.
- Goodness. Be good to yourself, for goodness’ sake! Finally, give yourself the gift of:
- Hope. “Let the God of hope fill your hearts. May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (Rom. 15:13).
I have withstood death and lived to tell about it. My prayer for each one of you, in whatever loss you’re facing, is for you to meet the Comforter and experience His comfort and care, just as I have. You see, grief is what all of us have in common. It’s where we all meet at the foot of the cross. And through the process of grief, we are given the privilege of tasting and seeing that the Lord is good.
