Love To You Who Are Grieving On Christmas

by Kevin Burton

   It’s deeply upsetting to me that my mother was in a hospital, alone on Christmas Eve, in what could easily be her last Christmas season.

   There isn’t a phone in her room and I don’t believe she grabbed her cell phone for an emergency trip to ER Monday night. So I can’t communicate with her.  I know she needs her sleep more than anything just now, but it’s just the separation at this most wonderful time of the year.

   My stepson and his family are up from Oklahoma for the night and we’re doing what we do on Christmas Eve, dinner and presents and laughter and fun – and don’t forget grandma’s exquisitely-made deserts. 

   The juxtaposition of the innocence and joy of the beginning of life  and the devastating  sorrows of end of life – it’s just more than I can take just now.

   And, though the nurse said my mom is “stable,” I am deathly afraid that God is going to take her today on Christmas Day, the way he took my sister on my birthday, four months ago to the day.

    I didn’t want to spoil anybody’s holiday with my tears, so I sought out a quiet corner of the house to come to terms with my reality.

   So that’s my story, part of it anyway.

   I know you have your story. I may not know you or your story, but I know that story is deeply personal and it’s real, and it stings in places.

   They cut that part out of the credit card commercials don’t they? The searing pain. But that ache won’t be denied. Only a fool would try.

   I would never silence the jingle bells, nor darken the lights on the Christmas tree.

   But here’s a note for you who are hurting. Here’s a hug, but not just a hug, an embrace. Somebody in a flat state cares about you, truly feels your pain.

   Your great pain and my great pain were plucked off the same grocery shelf, part of the purchase price of great love. And there’s no way we would ever have read the fine print on that package.

   But if we somehow could have, would we really have put great love back on the shelf, saying, “nah, I’m going to get something safer.”?

   I led much of my life like the lead boulder in an avalanche, captain of the chaos, keeper of the sound and the fury, and chronicler of the times.

   But now, I have a time to pause, to reflect, to appreciate, to regret, to cheer, to sigh.

   How about you? What reflections are you taking just now, from the tinsel on the tree?

   I wish I could hear your story. If you will  take the time to tell it, I will take the time to truly listen. This is what we did for one another in the America I grew up in.

   Pictures tell a story for most of us. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Well, some of them are, I think. But I know for sure that a thousand words aren’t nearly as valuable as say 20 words coming straight from the heart.

   Anyway, back to pictures. There might be pictures you can barely stand to look at now as your whole being grieves the loss of a loved one. This pain will soften I believe, and open up into something sunny that will warm your life and maybe shine on the lives of others. This has happened for me.

   The God who gave us our loved ones in the first place, never said we would have them forever in this life. To the contrary, he said we would not.

   The God who allowed us plenty and unity and harmony on earth, the God who designed us, made in His own image. That God has for us, something better.

   There is a Heaven above that He longs to welcome you into. That’s what Christmas is all about.

   Jesus, God the Son, took on the form of a man, to save men from themselves and from their sins. That story has been told, many times, many ways. But the end of the tale shows a glorious kingdom where grieving is a thing of the past. No more sorrow, no more pain.

    How about we meet up there dear reader?