The Sunday before Thanksgiving I was sitting in church. The morning had been good and not stressful. The row I was sitting on was filled with people I love. And the message was wonderful.
As he does every year just before Thanksgiving, our Pastor gave us a list of questions that we can ask around the table; questions to invite communication, openness and intimacy within our families. He started doing this a few years ago and I just love it! I write down every question and even though we are a family who needs zero help finding something to talk about, it’s still fun to do and opens up great communication and even old memories.
I snapped a picture of the questions as they were put on the screen - when my eyes landed on the last one.
It read: If you could ask Jesus one question at this time of year, what would it be?
And that was all it took.
My eyes welled up with tears and they started to flow. One right after the other. They were pouring down my face. I couldn’t stop them. My cousin, Meridith, looked through her purse for Kleenex. Everyone wanted to give me something to help with my tears.
But who could give me back my son?
Because that’s why I was crying. That’s why I was hurting. Because every year at Christmas I want to ask Jesus: “How is Elisha? Is he okay? Is he happy? Has he made friends? Is he tall like David or short like my dad? Does he have blond hair? Is it curly, because my dad’s is curly. Is he good at sports? What’s his favorite food? Does he love animals? He would’ve gotten that naturally from both David and I. What does he do in his spare time? Does he spend time with my Pawpaw? Was he thrilled to meet my Granny? Does he think she’s funny? Does he miss me? Does he remember me? Does he love us like we love him?”
It’s been 19 years. And I still want to ask those questions. I still want to know how my boy is.
And so, every Christmas, like my knees when rain is in the forecast, I begin to ache. I begin to walk with a small, slight limp. This year is no different.
Welcome to Seasons Grievings. Over the next four weeks I will be walking through grief with you, because let me tell you something: it is everywhere.
It is in every neck I hug or email I read, it’s in heavy smiles at Target and in the eyes of baristas at Starbucks. Grief shows up in heavy numbers this time of year. And why wouldn’t it? The world has marketed Christmas as fun and family, frosty nights at home around the fire with the ones you love. They show us joyous gift openings and holiday parties where everyone is laughing and hugging and driving for hours to be with their people. We are layered with sappy romance movies and love that is found under the mistletoe.
I guess commercials with widows and single moms, couples struggling with infertility or debt, broken marriages and grieving fathers, just don’t have the same ring to it.
But that’s okay. There’s a place for us here. In this Winter LonelyLand, in these Heartbreaking Holidays, in this Seasons of Grievings.
For the next few weeks you’ll receive two emails. The one on Thursdays, are for fun and shopping and recipes I’m loving. But on Tuesdays we will walk through Grief. Together. Right here in this space. I’ll give you questions to consider. Scriptures to comfort. And we will limp through the season holding each other up.
And we won’t stay like this forever. January will come and suddenly we’ll be back in the thick of it. Trying to lose weight and start strong! But December? December is different. It hurts worse. And for right now, that is totally okay.
So, tell me…
What / Who are you grieving this season?
Why do you walk with a limp through the holidays?
And of course: If you could ask Jesus one question this season, what would it be?
Answer below. This is Holy ground. Yours answers will be kept confidential. I won’t share them publicly. And I’ll pray over each one.
Will you pray for me, too?
I love you,
Mel
P.S. You no doubt know someone who could use these next four weeks. Would you consider sharing this email with them? I sure would like to help, if I can.
Maybe it’s just me, but when you write about grief, I think it’s some of your best work. Keep doing this hard work. We need it.
It feels “wrong” for me to grieve a long-lived life, but December is tricky bc we lost our 90 year old dad to a massive stroke 12/26/22, and essentially lost our mom the same day. She’s never been the same. She turned 90 Saturday, and today I’m sitting beside her hospital bed wondering if she will see Christmas this year. I guess I’d ask Jesus why He didn’t take her then, too. She’s been so miserable and lost and would be so much happier in heaven. And I would thank Him for the grace He gives just when we need it. Every time.
I’m sorry about your sweet boy. He is well loved, even now 💙. Thank you for giving us a space to feel.