Here in the last days before Christmas, the darkest days of the year, my grieving heart longs for light.
In some ways the busy-ness of the holiday season pushes the pain of missing my son to the background–a mind can only entertain so many ideas at one time.
But the activity and constant barrage of demands and conversations exhausts me and makes me more vulnerable to the moments when grief rolls full force over my soul like an ocean wave.
I am more sensitive to the chasm between me and those who have not buried a child.
More sensitive to the fact that the world continues to spin, parties are planned, songs are sung and Dominic isn’t here for any of it.
I want to find a way to mark his absence, to include him in conversation, to make sure he isn’t forgotten.
I am so very thankful for the family that surrounds me at Christmas, and want them to know how much I cherish the moments we are together and how fiercely I love them.
But my heart is divided.
Part of me is “here” and part of me is “there”. I walk in two worlds–on earth and in heaven. I savor the sweet joy of the “now” but ache for the even sweeter joy of the “forever”.
So I sing all four verses of the Christmas hymns–not just the ones that speak of Jesus’ birth, but the verses that tell of His return.
I celebrate His coming, but I long for His coming again.
For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophets seen of old,
When with the ever-circling years
Shall come the time foretold,
When the new heaven and earth shall own
The Prince of Peace, their King,
And the whole world send back the song
Which now the angels sing.
~It Came Upon A Midnight Clear