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.