...and then I remembered.
To take you back there, this is the Christmas letter I wrote on Christmas Eve.
What I remember most about that first year was exhaustion. I don't remember what I bought my family (other than some cool light-up stocking caps for the boys). What I remember most was feeling like living required every ounce of my energy. Just getting through the day required an immense amount of strength. I think every fiber of my being was clenched to keep myself together.
...and I remember sitting in the front pew of Immanuel Lutheran Church listening to O Holy Night - and I cried. I cried and cried and cried. My soul was weary. My heart heavy. My body tired. ...but, I didn't feel a thrill of hope. I didn't know if rejoicing could come.
...and that magical second line drew me into my the arms of my Savior, my Jesus.
"In all our trials born to be our friend.
He knows our need - to our weakness, (He is) no stranger..."That first Christmas wasn't all sadness; no, I am determined to be able to rejoice with others. I determined to be strong, I suppose, to not be a wet blanket upon everyone's joy. ...but, I carried such sadness in my heart, still. I think I can only admit to that heaviness, sorrow, and exhaustion now; now that it is only in retrospect; now that I am not weighed by that burden. But, I don't know that I could have admitted to the depth of it then. It would have overwhelmed me too much. However, Jesus knew my need - my need to be sad, to cry, to be held; with Him, I could release.
In Him, I could find release (and have). For me, it is now my third Christmas without Dan. For my friends grieving this Christmas, know that it is okay to feel your feelings. It is better to feel your feelings than to "put on a happy face." Your body cannot hold onto the trauma you've felt - let it release the tension.
For me, this past year has been a slow maneuver of release. The day Dan died I was told that I had to let him go - which probably triggered a response in me to say: I will not. I will never. I will carry him. I cannot leave him behind. I cannot let go of Dan.
I don't know how else to explain this except that I have physically felt my body holding on. I have muscles that can't seem to unclench. Training for that half-marathon certainly didn't help my body release. I should have treated myself with some gentleness, but instead...I pushed it. This year, I started doing some morning stretches 4-5 days/week. My body is finally releasing - after 3 years of tension.
In October, I started attending a gentle yoga session 1-2 times a week. Through the addition of this practice, I can feel the tension (slowly) letting go. During one week, we were laying on our backs with our legs up the wall - a good stretch to release the hips, where most of my tension is. This pose was then used in our 'shivasana' - the resting pose.
As I lay there, I could first feel parts of my body tense, and as I pressed into the ground - release. I had an epiphany: I don't have to be the one holding myself together. I don't have to hold myself together. I don't have to carry the tension. I was made to be supported. The world was created to support us...we were not created to be self-supporting or self-sustaining. We were made one for the other.
In all our trials born to be our friend.
He knows our needs; our weakness no stranger.
Behold, your king. Before him lowly bend.
Oh holy night, when the Light of the world put on flesh to be our friend. Oh holy night, when the God who created us became just like us - entering the world just like I did - exiting the world through death - He became like us in every way to form a new way to commune with God. He carried every burden so that we could know we are never alone - in any trial, in any weakness. He experienced frailty, humiliation, loneliness, desolation, hunger, grief - so that we would know there is always HOPE. That HOPE will always spring up even when the darkness seems to be closing in.
Light cannot be overcome by darkness - and LIGHT can be within us. In Him, our burden can be LIGHT - not dark nor heavy. Through the miracle of Jesus, we can experience joy even in our mourning.
I am living it. Jesus has changed my life. I didn't think it was possible; I thought that I was "good with God" three years ago - but, the emptiness that Dan's death brought has been so consumed with the Light of Jesus Christ that joy is more the cadence of my life as a widow than sorrow. That is resurrection. ...and resurrection is one of those miracle that only exists because of Christmas.
Merry Christmas my friends! May God bless us, every one.
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