Christmas. The season of happiness and cheer. Of family and festivities. That's what many say Christmas is all about, right?
The truth is, Christmas isn't always a happy time. I'm not referring to the "stress of the season" because we are oh so busy with baking and shopping and parties. I'm talking about sadness, tragedy, heartbreak. The Christmas season is not devoid of these things.
Last year my ex-husband J's brother was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer in early December. Long before Covid became a thing, his family was dealing with this terrible news. They tried everything: surgery, chemo, radiation, rehab. None of it worked. They gave him months to live. His family prayed for a miracle, and he lived longer than the doctors expected, but on October 15 he succumbed to the cancer. He would have turned 49 the following month.
Two months prior to his passing, Grandma was told her kidneys were not functioning well and she would need to go on dialysis immediately. She refused. Her emotional pain was so great that she declared if her son died she wanted to die as well. Her five remaining children begged her to go for treatment. Brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews, grandchildren, all tried to reason with her. She would not have it. She'd lost her mother 5 years ago, her sister 2 years later, and her husband of 59 years in September 2019. All these she'd managed as best she could, but the impending death of her son was more than she could bear. She gave up.
On December 16 I got a call from J. He was in hysterics. His mother was dying. I asked what was going on but all he could tell me was that, since the death of his brother, all his mother talked about was dying. I had to calm him down because he was absolutely frantic. After talking with his cousin, I found out Grandma had been taken to the hospital the previous week because her liver was functioning at 4% and she had sepsis. They began dialysis immediately, but it appears it was too little too late. Over the weekend she suffered 1-2 strokes (not sure how many, conflicting reports) and then a minor heart attack. At one point she coded and was revived, but never regained consciousness. The oldest daughter was asked if they should revive her again if she had another episode, and she told them no. There was no knowing if she had brain damage or how much. They again hoped for a miracle, knowing full well it didn't look good.
On December 21 they extubated her. She passed away in the hospital near midnight on December 22. J and his family are devastated. They lost their brother just two months ago, and now they lost their mother three days before Christmas. My kids are very sad as well, because they've lost their grandmother and because they know how much their dad is hurting.
Despite the sadness and tears (and I've shed many), I can say there is still joy this Christmas. Not happiness; happiness is a product of our circumstances, and these don't warrant any happy feelings right now. But there is joy. Joy is a product of the Holy Spirit, and surpasses our circumstances. It's the joy of knowing this life, filled with disappointments and heartache, is not all there is. It's the joy of a Savior that came down from His comfortable home in heaven to reside among us (Matthew 1:23). He did it because He knew we needed saving, and He was willing to take the punishment for our sins (Philippians 2:6-11). We have joy because we have hope beyond the troubles of this world, and that hope comes from the God of all comfort (2 Corinthians 1:3-5) whose promises are true.
Loss teaches us to appreciate what we have and those we've had. It reminds us to look at those around us and hug them tighter, cherish them more fully. No, I can't say I'm happy today. But I have much to be thankful for despite my unhappiness. I hope you have happiness this Christmas, but if you don't, I hope you know the joy of the Lord.
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