The Gift of Christmas Present

We give up joy when we focus on loss.  (Marie Crews)

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about how the ghosts of Christmas Past can sneak up on this time of year - and we don't have to be grieving to have them find us. I remember a conversation with my mom about ten years ago. My brother was spending Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with his girlfriend's family...and I felt left behind. I remember saying, "I just don't know how to have an 8-year-old's Christmas at 28!"

To me, it felt like Christmas had to be about reliving those past traditions in order for it to be Christmas. ...and how do you relive a tradition without an integral family member?

You don't. ...and that tension of recognizing what has been is not what is can be very hard, frustrating, lonely or painful. For me, I think that Christmas was the first of letting go of the parameters put on Christmas and letting it just be.

Lucky enough for me, I didn't have to endure too many "single" Christmases after that. In fact, the very next year was what Dan and I referred to as the "awkward" Christmas - when he traveled to Orient for Christmas dinner when we were sort-of/almost dating - and it was a really fun day, really fun - one that you want to have again...but afterward, I felt a little more confused. I mean, what were we? Did he like me enough to actually ask me out?  Looking back, a magical 8-ball could've told you all signs point to yes - but cautious Jessica just wasn't quite sure.

One of the gifts of Dan's presence in my life was a feeling of settling. Not like "settling" - where you give up...but a feeling of being...grounded. Whenever we speak of the peace of the Holy Spirit resting upon us - this is what I think of: the feeling of being grounded even when the rest of your life feels out of control.

I had felt, for so many years, that I was running behind everyone (my peers): not yet married, no kids...just me. and my parents. I must have a bit of a competitive nature because I felt like everyone around me was "moving forward" in their life, and here I was, a 28-year-old trying to either live out an 8-year-old's Christmas or live with the emptiness of being single. Dating and then being married to Dan changed that.

The last ten years have really been a lesson in loosening the parameters and allowing the present to be just what it is. However, it took Dan's diagnosis to make this lesson not just a good idea (an ideal), but a necessity. From the second day of the diagnosis, I realized that the best way to get through this was to stay grounded in this moment. That realization helped Dan and I truly live the last year of our lives with peace and joy in the midst of uncertainties.

I don't much remember Christmas last year. Maybe I was too focused on the getting through it...but, this year, though there are moments of heightened loss, I am finding my joy in the gift of Christmas present. My health coach shared this pearl of wisdom with me this past fall:

We give up joy when we focus on loss.

Those of us who have experienced loss realize the gift of today. Today, you have this moment to be with your family and friends: live it. If you feel pain, feel it. If you feel lonely, reach out. If you feel scared, open your heart to God. If you feel joy, laugh. If you feel you are not enough or your validation comes from giving the most presents or the goodness of the day is measured by what you get: then renounce those lies and send them to the pit of hell. Seriously. When you focus on loss, you give up joy. Don't let the joy of what really matters be stolen. You will only get this day once. Live it.

Jessica of ten years ago would be measuring herself by those around her. Has she arrived yet? Is she a wife yet? Is she a mom yet? Jessica today does feel the sting of loss at times. Of course she wants to be with Dan; of course she wants to be married; of course she wants to be a mom. And yet, this moment: this is enough.

It is a gift to be Aunt Jessica. ...and by all rights to be the cool aunt. Instead of spending Christmas Eve sewing last-minute gifts for your kid, it's for your kids (nieces).

It is such a gift to get to be Mom's cool friend to my friends' kids. When a 5-year-old requests that you be the one to put him to bed - and finds delight in your laughter and enjoyment of his presence: that is a gift. When an 8-year-old requests to wait on going home just so she can talk to you about her favorite things: that is a gift. (and when that 8-year-old is explaining how she just doesn't understand the logic behind one of the desserts at her favorite restaurant and she says, "It just doesn't make sense, you know?" You say, "I do know!" because you know that as a first-born, you need the world to make sense!)

...and when you get side-lined by a freak case of the stomach virus - you just come home and rest. Enjoying the chance to relive a bit of Christmas past: sitting in the dark with nothing but Christmas lights and Mannheim Steamroller...and taking a 2-hour nap before the opening of the presents.

In the past, I may have felt like if one little detail - or even one program missed - that Christmas would be ruined. For Christmas had been in the doing. Christmas is in the being - the dwelling. If we miss that, then we miss Christmas.

My dear friends, Christmas is about rejoicing: returning to joy in the midst of whatever your circumstances or feelings. JOY. The One who not only dwells in unapproachable Light but is Light itself has put on our flesh to be not only like us, but to be with us. If this is not a cause of wonder and awe, I don't know what is! But this same One has come to fulfill these words in himself: Comfort, comfort My people. Proclaim a day of rejoicing for the blind see, the lame walk, the captives have been set free! By the Lord has this been done and it is wonderful in our sight!

The gift of Christmas present: yesterday, today, and always.

Humanity + Holiness

The wonder of Christmas really is the miracle that the holy can become human...and vice versa, that the human can be reunited with the holy. As humans, I think this combination doesn't feel "seamless" - it often feels more like the tension between the dark and the light. (I just saw The Last Jedi last night, so that imagery is still vivid) Humanness and holiness don't seem to exist on the same plane, for us.

...but that couldn't be farther from the truth, could it?

Our humanity is what makes our holiness accessible. Our humanity makes holiness not seem like an impossible ideal, but instead a glorious place of love, acceptance, mercy, and joy.


What has flagged that for me this Christmas? My mom.

My mom doesn't tend to get the "shout-out" she has earned in my life, probably because of the centrality she plays. You don't notice the importance of breathing - you just do it everyday, every moment...and that's sort of how my mom is. She is SO MUCH of who I am that I don't even know how to recognize and honor her importance.

At Thanksgiving, we had a "discussion" where she said, "Can we just stop making fun of me for my short-comings? It's always funny to bring up the things that I do wrong. Well, it's not funny to me!"

...and it's true. We often have a really good laugh at my mom's antics...like the bumper boats incident. Those moments are inscribed into our shared family experience. ...but, we don't laugh at the them because they highlight her imperfection - I love them because they highlight her accessibility. Her realness. Her willingness to put herself out there...and show her vulnerabilities - and to laugh at the outcome when it wasn't ideal.  

My mom's willingness to be herself, to allow her "imperfections" to be displayed makes me love her more. My mom's immediate reaction to a problem with, "Shit. Shit! Shit! Shit!" makes me love her more. If she responded beatifically to every situation, well, I think we would be the most insufferable people. Completely inaccessible to others. Unrelatable. Untouchable. Separate. Removed. 

Instead, she is the person to whom I can give a gift that combines two seemingly unrelated things:

because she is my personal reminder that humanity and holiness dwell together. She can laugh at the message of "Sofa King Bueno" while allowing the immutable truth of Jesus Christ present to us to be the anchor of her soul through the storms of life.  ...I think people might say the same of me - and that is often why describing her importance in my life is so difficult. She is my first teacher and my best friend.


Humanity and holiness dwelling together. My friends, this is the Christmas Mystery. That the Creator of the Universe, God from God, Light from Light...could even put on our flesh and become human - that is mystery itself. ...but the fact that this God would choose to put on humanity...that is love itself.

Our image of holiness is one that is removed. separate. untouchable. ...because our sin doesn't allow us to encounter holiness. The effect of coming close to the fire of holiness would be to burn away to impurities and the imperfections - and that seems scary. To encounter the fire of holiness in our state would certainly be our undoing, our end.

The idea of God often seems far from us. God is removed from us. Separate. ...unreachable...untouchable...unrelatable.

...which is why the Incarnation, God becoming flesh, Light entering the world in the form of a person should bring us to our knees - out of sheer awe and relief and worship and joy.

Jesus, who did not believe equality with God was something which should be grasped,
humbled himself and taking the form of a man,
and finding himself in the form of a man, submitted to death - even death on the cross -
that at his name, every knee should bow on heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue proclaim that "Jesus is Lord!"

The miracle of Christmas is humanity and holiness reunited, knit together in the form of Jesus Christ. Jesus - the baby in the manger, born in the humblest of places into a working-class family...
Jesus - the teenager who senses his calling, who knows he is meant for more - submits to his parents' desire for him to stay home and near them...growing in grace and favor;
Jesus - the teacher, inspiring and confusing;
Jesus - the miracle worker, loving and noticing and touching and healing - the unlovable, the forgotten, the untouchable, the broken;
Jesus - the prophet, speaking words of truth that divide soul & spirit, right from might;
Jesus - the prince of peace and the stumbling block;

Jesus - in a manger, in his mother's arms.
Jesus - in a temple, sitting among his teachers.
Jesus - in a boat. on a beach. at a well, speaking to individuals, to friends, to the masses.
Jesus - at a dinner with his friends, reclining at table.
Jesus - praying for a miracle. desperate for a resolution. seeking consolation.
Jesus - taking up his cross, and shouldering the mantle of his calling.
Jesus - bearing all the brunt of hatred, power, man's inhumanity to man, our sin and all that has separated us from the holiness of his Father....he took it all upon him. ALL.
Everything that separated us from the presence of holiness himself: God the Father, Jesus destroyed through that cross. Everything. EVERY THING. including death.

For me, the images that evoke Jesus' humanness the most are his prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane and his crown of thorns. I see in those two images the very image of what it means to be human - to wrestle with the weight of suffering and death, the vulnerability to be scared and tell God about it, and to find the love and the strength to endure cruelty, pain, and the worst. excruciatingly painful and humiliation - and love and forgive - to do it all willingly and with overflowing love: that is what it means to be holy.

In his humanity and through his holiness, Jesus has been the restoration of our life. He has redeemed our lives through love. In him and through him: holiness and humanity can dwell together in harmony once again. They are not ying-and-yang. It is our true self, our true calling. Humanity and holiness dwelling in harmony.

Only possible through Jesus Christ, the God-Man. This Christmas, let us throw off all that hinders us and coming running into the arms of our Savior and Lord. This reconciliation - this is the greatest gift.



...and it enables us to look at the circumstances of life knowing that it's sofa king bueno because it really is well with our souls.


Merry Christmas!

Ghosts of Christmas Past

There was something else I wanted to write about today. ...but Feelings gotta feel. So, I'm going down this tunnel looking for some light.

Has anyone else felt the heaviness of the season lately? The heaviness of expectation.

It makes sense when you think about it. Advent: the coming. The preparation for the birth. The month that seems to last 1,331 days instead of the typical 30-31. ...except that with this particular time, it seems to go too fast for one to be adequately prepared, which just adds to the heaviness of expectation.

I have felt that heaviness...it feels like dread. Like this weight that you want to shake, but you can't. It's coming for you; it's here; the time is upon you and you're.just.not.ready. You're not ready, and here it is. ...like a thief in the night.

I've heard the passages about Christ coming "like a thief in the night" many times. ...but until writing the above paragraph...I didn't really realize that's exactly what grief is like. That's exactly what Dan's death felt like to me: a thief in the night. I wasn't ready...but it came anyway.

...it came anyway.

The last 24 hours, I've been quite sad. I was reminded that December 11, 2008 was a pretty significant date in the story of Dan and Jessica. A year ago, I wrote about the start of our relationship.

December 11, 2008: Dan and I attended Esmerelda, a Christmas production put on by my church. Because of this amazing work that God did in my heart from the time we broke up on October 6 (when I was too afraid of losing a potential relationship to invite him to something that was really important to me: afraid) to November 30 (when I wasn't concerned about a relationship, but just wanted to spend time with him), he was attending. For at least the month prior, I had been praying that God would do a miracle in Dan's heart. ...and I thought that night would be the night of the miraculous.

Prior to attending, Dan came over for dinner. Whatever I had made really didn't turn out well. We ate it anyway. The wine, Matchbox from Fireside Winery, was good - and the conversation was excellent. We talked about our families and traditions...and for some reason, I think we talked about Ohio...and it felt so natural, so much like home.

Then, we went to play. It was great. ...then, we went out for dessert at Perkins and I had triple berry pie. We talked a long time; I remember we talked about how Dan had been baptized twice...how his very life (existence) was a miracle.

It was...magical. It was perfect.

December 12, 2008: I was working on two, take-home finals at a local coffee shop (Cafe Diem). ...and, I talked to my dad about the evening...and I realized that I had no other reason to see Dan. I had just had this wonderful night, and now, I realized, I didn't know when I would see him again. The ball was in his court, and I could only wait.

...and I cried. I sat in my car and cried actual tears as I cried out to God in prayer. What my dad had said 2 months earlier when he said that I loved Dan - was right. I loved him and I didn't even know if he liked me back. I had put it all out there...and...what would be next?

I sobbed and sobbed as I asked God to make a way.

I came in to the coffee shop and opened up my email. There was an email from Dan...stating that he had a really nice time and that he would like to see me again. Would I be interested in going to a movie that weekend?

Of course.

That movie was Four Christmases, one of the many Christmas movies in our repertoire.

A couple of days later, we met for a drink to celebrate the end of finals. ...I finally worked up enough courage to invite him to my family Christmas (per my mother's urging). His response was, "...um.....well...." (which is like an eternity) "Well, to be honest, I was kind of hoping for a better offer."
Me: "A better offer? Seriously? Do you know how much courage that took for me to invite you? ...and you said you were waiting for a better offer?"
Dan: "Well, I mean - a closer offer. I mean, you live like an hour and a half away...and that's a long way to go..."
(I agree. It is - which is the whole reason I didn't want to invite him in the first place, Mom.) Instead, I just sit there.
Dan: "I'll go. I'll go."
Me: "ok...."

So, on Christmas Day, Dan drove an hour and a half (one way) to have dinner with the Rohrigs. I was so nervous. I'd never - NEVER - had a boy join me for a family anything - let alone Christmas dinner. It was just my parents, brother and girlfriend and me...but I'm not sure if that means more or less pressure.

It was a lovely dinner. We exchanged some small gifts. My dad gave Dan a hammer. (which we still have) We played A Christmas Story monopoly in couple-pairs which morphed into It's a Wonderful Life monopoly when my dad became the banker with all the money (Mr. Potter) and my brother the staunch hold-out against his take-over (George Bailey).

It was fabulous. ...and suddenly it was 6pm and Dan needed to drive an hour and a half back to Ames and do chores along the way for the Ritter family.


I still wasn't sure how Dan felt about me, but I was pretty sure he liked me. A few days later, we watched the.longest.movie.ever (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button) - but he held my hand for the first time. ...and it was magical. Seriously. It was electric - just like the say in Sleepless in Seattle.


That was my December 2008; nine years ago now. It was magical. It was everything those blasted Hallmark movies portray.

Our subsequent Decembers together were equally as beautiful - and dramatic. (like that one where he proposed) :)

...and that is what makes the present December hard.


I don't really remember what last year was like. I probably was very adament to not let grief ruin the season. I don't know. ...but as I think about when I will do all.the.things, I feel a bit like ghost of our Christmas past is tapping on my shoulder:
remember when Dan proposed? 
remember how Christmas cards were SO your thing?
remember when you received SO many cards the year you moved to Michigan? 
remember when you had someone to spend the day with - regardless of where you were?
remember when you could get a hug any time you wanted? 


The Ghost of Christmas Past is going to come anyway. Grief is going to come anyway. We have a choice: we can let them come or we can try to shut the curtains of our 4-post bed - but, they will still sit there. Conversely, we can sit with the memory - and though it pierces our present - our hearts are being made more tender in the process.

The present is bitter because the past was so sweet. ...and the fear is wondering how it's even possible for someone to experience magic again. Like, is that even fair? Is it fair for someone to get magic twice?


I don't know. What I do know is that this time of Advent is a time where I can allow myself to empty the pain and burden I carry...because a time is coming when the valley will be filled. If I choose to be emptied, I can be filled. I believe that God who promises is a God who does - and that his promise is Emmanuel: God with us. God present-to us. The God who fills us with His very presence. The God of the Impossible, the Inconceivable, the Incarnate.

I will wait for him. I welcome him. ...and though I walk through the valley of the shadow, I will not fear - for He is with me.