MIssing

I miss his hands and the way they gripped a pencil. I miss the awkward hugs he insisted on giving. I miss his scratchy voice and how every phone conversation started with, “Hi, Cindy, it’s Matt,” as if caller id didn’t exist. I miss his car pulling up to park in the back of my house. I miss his crazy questions, his insightful questions, his tough questions. I miss his presence in my house. I miss his patchy beard and mustache. I miss, I miss, I miss, I miss......

These are the hard days, when we return to life’s routines, but a huge part of that routine is gone. These are the hard days when Christmas lights twinkle and shine and they bring a mix of joy and sadness. These are the hard days when we keep thinking he’s just around the corner or a phone call away.

These are the hard days...

I made a decision. 

Since the middle of November I’ve been trying to think through how to handle Thanksgiving and Christmas. I have an amazing counselor who has affirmed my gut instinct to choose what activities I want to join in, what decorating I want to do (or not do), whether or not to go Christmas shopping or choose to just give cards this year. It has been a real struggle and until this evening I hadn’t made any progress in knowing how Christmas-y I wanted my house to be. 

After a very strange day - a morning filled with quiet and peace; an extraordinarily difficult afternoon filled with tension and sorrow - I blessedly spent the evening with my best friend. As I drove through my neighborhood, I was struck by the beautiful Christmas lights, and for the first time this year, the twinkling, the colors, the beauty brought me peace and not sadness. 
















What I know and believe suddenly bubbled up to the surface of my mind and I remembered: For me, every light, every twinkle, every shining globe is there because Jesus is the Light of the World. Jesus came to save us. Jesus came to shine down his love and bring us back to our Father who never forgot about his children. 

Every light. 

And I want those lights. 

I want that reminder in my house, to fill my eyes, and be the last thing I see each night as I fall asleep. 

For me, Christmas is not just a celebration of the birth of Jesus, of the little babe in the manger, of the angels and shepherds, of Mary and Joseph and the adoration of the Magi. Christmas isn’t even the beginning of the story. Christmas is the fulfillment of centuries of prophecy, is the opening of a door that had been closed, is the sigh of relief at the arrival of the Messiah. Christmas is the fulfillment of Emmanuel - God with Us. 

And this is the space in which I live my life. I believe it with all my being. Rain or shine, heart breaking sorrow or bubbling joy, with broken dreams or in bliss - it is the Truth, the bedrock of my life.
 
So I’ll decorate for Christmas - with the sadness of missing my brother, with the roller coaster of emotions I’m still riding, but with the joy of the shepherds and angels who saw before them their Messiah, the Light of the World, the God who saves. 

Suddenly, the angel was joined by a vast host of others - the armies of heaven - praising God and saying, 

Glory to God in the highest heaven, 

and peace on earth to those with whom God is pleased.

Luke 2:13-14

Seasons change

Seasons of life come and go, holidays roll around the calendar, and we search for meaning in it all. 

I started out my marriage with what seemed an obvious purpose - to do all I could to help my husband who was working on first his Master's, then his Doctorate in Engineering. I worked full time while learning to run a household - grocery shop, keep up with laundry, manage our money. 

But my "purpose" has shifted and changed over the years, and at times it has been with great struggle and sadness - moving several times, losing my mother and father, struggling through infertility and coming to the full knowledge that I would not be a mother. 

Last year, as we saw my brother's health declining, I wondered if my purpose, if God's design in not allowing Tim and I to have children, was so that we could care for Matt, bring him into our home, and make him a full time part of our family. 

But now he's gone, too, and so that purpose has fallen away. 

So what is my purpose? As I wrestle through this once again, I come to the same conclusion I did several years ago. My purpose is to love God with all my heart, mind and spirit, and to go where that leads. I don't need children to pour my life into others. I don't need to care for my declining brother to have a focus for my energy and love. 

Hanging in my bedroom for many years was a picture that said, "Heart's desire". I thought my deepest desire was to have children, but in truth, there is an even deeper desire that carries me through all this loss: My deepest heart's desire is to love God. 

So Matt is gone, and I must wade through the mud of that sadness and loss, but my bedrock remains - God's purpose for my life. To love people. To be involved in lives. To give what I can to those around me. 

It won't be Matt I pour my life into. But God is faithful. He has always given me people to love. I know he will do so once again.