Merry Christmas! As I sit here enjoying the view of the Christmas tree and the winter wonderland outside, the first in a decade in Seattle, I can’t help but reflect on the past year.
Growing up, the Christmas albums on repeat were Neil Diamond and Amy Grant. My favorite song as a child was Neil Diamond’s version of ‘Happy Christmas.’ “War is over, if you want it…a very Merry Christmas, and a happy new year! Let’s hope it’s a good one, without any fear…” I suppose a was a bit of a melancholic child, but I always felt like years were filled with struggle, but when we reached Christmas, there was a break, there was rest, there was a sigh of relief. Although I wasn’t in to New Year’s resolutions, Christmas was a time to reflect on the “war” of the previous year, , relax, and to dream a little about the new year to come.
My favorite contemporary song as an adult is ‘I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day‘ sung by Casting Crowns. It, too, is a melancholic song based on the words of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, who had endured the loss of loved ones and his home in a fire during the war. He reflects upon hearing the Christmas bells: “And the bells are ringing (peace on earth), like a choir they’re singing (peace on earth), in my heart I hear them (peace on earth), peace on earth, goodwill to men. In despair I bowed my head, there is no peace on earth I said. For hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, goodwill to men.” Like Wadsworth, many approach Christmas with a heavy heart and without the joy that characterizes the holiday. But then he powerfully concludes: “…then rang the bells more loud and deep, God is not dead nor doth He sleep, the wrong shall fail, the right prevail, peace on earth…” Such beautiful inspiration from a heart that was filled with sorrow, but that, as such, could deeply understand the true joy of the hope we have in Christ.
This Christmas has certainly been a different one for me. Not being a corps has meant an absence of kettles and toy distribution coordination and a myriad of other “normal” activities from the past seven years. Not only were my days and weeks not so jam-packed and filled with stress, but, conversely, they were filled with the inefficiency of love and the “slow-ness” of taking time for others. I spent hours listening to peoples’ stories, transporting people here or there when in need, and cooking for families that could be blessed with a home-cooked meal. And, in the final approach toward Christmas, having life come to a screeching halt with seven days of family stomach flu certainly made time slow down.
Fortunately, I do my shopping year-round and didn’t have much of that to do in the last couple of months approaching Christmas. Normally, I do this because I’m just too busy to think about buying gifts, let alone have time to shop for them. But this year was different. I love to give gifts, but this year I had a hard time being excited about giving any gifts. It’s a bit hard to articulate, but I feel like a combination of things has made it difficult to be excited about “things.”
I’ve written about minimalism, and, yes, that probably has a little bit to do with it. The fact that we own so much and I’ve been working hard to get rid of the excess that we own, it does make one more mindful of all that comes in at Christmas.
But it’s much deeper than that.
My ministry these past few months has hit me in a different way than the previous seven years. Maybe it’s because I am doing less administration and more relationship-building, or maybe it’s because the ministry relationships I’ve been building aren’t based on what they think they can “get” from me, but, rather, are purely for the sake of relationship. At first, it was so weird to not receive daily threats, not to deal with people angry at me for one thing or another that I couldn’t provide for them, and to, instead, experience people that actually seemed genuinely grateful, which had become extremely rare in recent years. I don’t think I had realized just how much this had taken its toll.
Instead of angry, bitter, mean people…there was a woman who was pregnant, badly injured, and needed a ride to the hospital to receive necessary care…there was a woman who was nearly beaten to death laying in a hospital bed missing part of her skull because it had to be removed to allow the bleeding and swelling in her brain to eventually heal itself…there was a woman who had fled to four different states because her abuser kept finding her and her children…there was a woman who literally had to rebuild her identity to save her life, giving up her nursing degree and career so that she couldn’t be tracked down…there was a woman who had lived in the same apartment 14 years and then lost everything in a fire and was staying in our shelter…and these are only a few of the women I’ve met in recent months.
When you pack up the clothes of a family of five and it fits in one garbage bag, you can’t help but reflect on the excess in which many of us live.
When you meet women filled with fear that have very little in the way of worldly possessions, you can’t help but be changed.
As I look back on the year, it’s a year of some huge losses for me–not catastrophic, like the loss of health or a loved one, but on a very personal level at the core of who I am–deep, deep losses. My core values were challenged. My love was challenged. My ministry was challenged. How I define myself was challenged.
And for awhile there, it almost looked like the world was going to beat me. But then, something changed, and the woman buried deep inside me, seemed to wake up. It was almost as though somehow along the way I’d gotten lost on this journey called life, and had to find my way back home. The losses forced me to dig deep and find a strength within that had been buried for some time. And slowly, ever so slowly, I’ve been clawing my way into the light from the darkness where I had found myself stuck just a few months ago. Being intentional, taking time for myself, reading, and listening to motivational podcasts have all contributed toward my advancement in this battle.
The other day I was walking in downtown Seattle and there was a simple sticker that I saw at least three or four times stuck in different places. It was a small black square with white letters, easy to miss. It simply read: “be the light.” I couldn’t help but smile as I reflected on the past few months and how far I’ve come in re-igniting that fire inside me. Someone once reminded me that the sun doesn’t vie for attention; every morning it simply rises and is the light. Likewise, staying true to my name, I can simply be the light for a world in need. Having been shrouded in darkness, it was my duty to rekindle that light and end this year remembering the One True Light of the world who instilled that light in me.
This journey through my own darkness, as well as catching glimpses of the darkness others endure, has certainly colored this Christmas celebration. I didn’t want any gifts; I finally gave in and allowed Jonathan to get me a CD I’d been wanting and two personal development books to help further my journey. While I’m excited about them, the real gift for me this Christmas is seeing hope restored in my own heart and seeing growth from wounds that felt at times like they may never heal. And so I celebrate this Christmas, the gift of Light, the rekindled light in my own heart, and the hope that I have for what God has in store for the coming year.
From me to you, I pray that you have had a blessed Christmas, and that wherever you find yourself in your journey, that you would know the Light and the hope that Light gives.