The calendar has flipped again, and I am not sure I've ever been so glad to see the year turn. The last time I posted I was sick at Thanksgiving (and the whole family got sick, although to varying degrees: what was a fairly unpleasant experience for me was 48 hours of body aches for my husband!). Then it was Advent, and Christmas.
I did not have the heart to write much during that time. Once I recovered from my illness, we were immediately thrown into Nutcracker week, my sister's 40th birthday, and my sweet aunt and stepmom visiting from out-of-state. The month continued to snowball: Finn's piano teacher sold us her car (praise the LORD --I had been looking off and on for months for a replacement to my 19-year-old car, and she just happened to be selling her 4-year old car with 45,000 miles, one of the only two brands I was trying to find!), so we spent an inordinate amount of time the week before Christmas on moving money, dealing with insurance changes, going to the DMV....you know. Then my in-laws lost power during the coldest week of the year, and my brother-in-law moved in with us for a few days while my sister also came to down for Christmas. On Christmas Eve I was sending a hot Dutch oven of chili and thermos of coffee to my in-laws (who refused to leave their house although it was 39 degrees one morning!).
But there was something deeper happening also, and I knew it and could feel it. The dryness, the fatigue, the sadness of wrapping up what--I can see in retrospect--was the hardest year of my life. I used to think that was 2018, when my husband had cancer. That was hard. But this one was harder. By the time the end of this year rolled around and Christmas was upon us, I just didn't have the heart to do much.
We didn't drive around in pajamas looking at Christmas lights. We didn't go look at the decorated trees in town. We didn't bake a single thing--except that I did bake fruitcakes, some sort of primal urge, although my Dad (my annual fruitcake recipient) wasn't here to enjoy them. Although I ordered Christmas cards in October, I have yet to send them out. We didn't pull out our Advent book to read, and I think I watched one Christmas movie. I didn't put out many decorations.
I did give everyone gifts. We had a beautiful Christmas morning brunch, as always. I threw a special 40th birthday brunch for my sister, whose birthday is December 10th. But that's it.
I realized somewhere in there that I was really just wanting to get through the holidays, and get to January, so I could be done with it. I wanted to check the box and move on. I adore Christmas, so this desire to just get it over with is not my normal state of being. But it's completely understandable. Grief is a multi-faceted emotion. I acknowledged this as my reality: my father has died, and I am sad, and I don't feel like doing the normal holiday things. And I acknowledged this also as reality: God is here, the incarnation was real, and next year Christmas will be easier. I know it will be. I feel it already.
I allowed myself to feel all this without feeling "guilty" about it. My children both said several times that it didn't feel like a normal Christmas to them, and I told them that I understood completely. But in order for me to have the emotional space I needed to get through the season with grace and joy, I needed to keep everything very light and easy on myself. I could tell that I had a twinge of depression; I sometimes wandered around the house wondering what to do, and didn't feel "motivated" to do much. When that happens, I feel like it's important to get rest, to pray, to understand that it's okay to have a hard season. They come and they go.
It has gone. We spent four nights in Charleston around the new year, and when we pulled into our driveway on January 2nd I was almost elated: I had gotten through the holidays. I had gotten through Christmas. Most of all, I had gotten through the first Charleston Christmas party (a big annual event at our house there) without my Dad. I had gotten through 2022. Hallelujah.
This new year feels like a gift. We are only one week in and I feel like a revitalized version of myself. I feel the old optimism and energy, the old purpose and direction--I feel those things pulsing within me again.
That's where I am, and I'm thankful.
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