I LOVE Christmas. All of it, everything about it from start to finish. I love the lights, the crisp air, the crunching of snow, the music, the colors, ornaments and the memories they carry, watching people get blessed, the giddiness of little ones, the anticipation, the joy, the food, the friendship, the love and the celebration of Jesus, all the cheesy movies and the hot cocoa…..
This year it is different. Actually the past few years have been different. This year I have chosen to actually let myself feel the authentic feelings that refuse to be plastered over with a smile and a false pretense. This year I hate Christmas. Yes, I said it, and I used the word hate.
This year the never ending streaming of Christmas music leaves an actual physical ache in my chest. This year I can’t even walk into the storage room that houses my decorations, let alone put them up. This year I can’t stop crying, and my aching soul is filled with shame at my selfishness, and I’m “should-ing” all over myself. I should be: happy, joyful, celebrating, thankful for what I have, thankful I’m not worse off, thankful period. But I’m not.
Instead I’m wrestling with God for answers. A God who I know doesn’t owe me anything, a God I should be in awe of and respectful toward and yet He is the same God who appears to be failing me time and time again. Doesn’t He see my pain? The Bible says He does. Does He care? The Bible says He does. Aren’t these longings and desires from Him? The Bible says they are. Then why do they feel like torture?
This Christmas I do not want any gifts. Truly and honestly I just don’t want any part of it. I am in too much pain. My soul is in anguish and it’s all I can do to just lift my head off the pillow. My season of mourning continues and it goes against everything that my mind is screaming at me. It goes against every message being broadcast across our nation, our church, our neighborhood, and even my own mind. Yet it is very real and it just is.