It Wasn't a Perfect Christmas

It was not a perfect Christmas.  There I've said it.  It was not a perfect Christmas, and in fact, there were times it down right sucked (a word I HATE, but I honestly can't think of a better one to use--please don't tell my children.).  Oh there were times that were wonderful, Norman Rockwell worthy times--times my heart was bursting with love, joy, and peace--times I couldn't wipe the goofy smile off my face. But there were also times when my heart seemed to be breaking into thousands and thousands of pieces--some splintered so small they might never be put back together--times I hid in my room, buried my face in the pillow and sobbed...

It all started when I received a call from SK the Saturday before she was to come home.  "Mama," she tentatively said (she knows me well), "Will it hurt your feelings if instead of coming home Tuesday when I finish exams, I come home sometime over the weekend?"  I took a deep breath before I answered--and for the record, there is no good answer to this question.  If I said, "No it won't hurt my feelings." she might hear, "I don't care if you come home." but if I say, "Yes it does" she might hear "I don't care."  I can't remember what I answered, but it was received well, so I assume I did okay.  And I was okay (sort of); yes I wanted her home, but I love she loves where she is, has amazing friends and just wants to spend relaxing time with them. But it was the beginning--the beginning of knowing life was changing...

If that was the only bummer moment, that would have been fine, but it wasn't.  That same week I

looked at the Christmas count down calendar realizing the only reason anything had been put up was because I did it.  Gone were the days the children "fought" over who got to go first.  And so I stopped...We went to get a tree the day before Christmas Eve, a usual tradition, but not before there was yelling, threats and tears.  Once we got there we had a great time, as usual, except for the fact Boss had to leave early for basketball AND three days later he missed Boxing Day because of basketball.

We did cut down a tree--a God awful tree--it took up 1/2 the living room, the angel couldn't fit on the top and instead was skewed to the side as though she'd had one too many, the lights only worked for a very brief (read 2 days) time, and there was more fighting (more than the usual, "Boss you have to at least put one ornament up) while decorating.

It wasn't just the "things" of Christmas.  There was tension--seemingly constant tension.  The big kids fought and they NEVER fight.  The babies hid (and claimed they didn't) in their rooms and the basement. There was talk about not coming home for the holidays next year; there was crying and yelling and hurt hurt feelings.  And I was sad....

I knew in my head this was transition.  We were finishing the worst year ever, SK is in the middle of her permanent leaving, and Boss is a senior ready to start his leaving.  (And the babies are just a year behind...) I remembered Christmas 1985 when our family went through the same thing--Meredith was home second year of college, I was a senior, and Dritte a sophomore, but still my heart was heavy. I kept thinking things like, "What if it never gets better?" and worse, "What if they never want to come home again?"  Deep breath and full confession...I didn't handle everything well.

There were times the children were getting along great, and I felt left out.  They told jokes and made references to things I wasn't a part of, and they wouldn't explain them to me (I suspect I'm probably glad now but I wasn't then.) Again I knew in my head this was normal, developmentally appropriate, and good for sibling relationships, but I missed being the center of their worlds.  I missed Christmases of the past; Christmases when I felt I was in control...

New Year's Day I was even more sad. I looked at the dining room table covered with crafting stuff and thought, "We can't even have a family dinner at the dining room table--it's not like we even want to."  In that moment, looking at that table instead of thinking of how grateful I was SK was home with her artistic talent, her love of life, her joy and her wisdom, I thought the table was just a really good metaphor for our family life--one big mess that keeps us from being together.

I was so grateful my dear friend Jenifer admitted she too felt melancholy (a much better word); that's helped me have the courage to admit my truth, and it's kept me from feeling alone.  Yet, I still wallowed... Instead of looking at 2016 with eyes shining with hopeful anticipation, I was still looking back at 2015 and thinking about all the mistakes and the pain. I moaned to Chris, "Nothing good happened in 2015." to which he wisely and calmly replied, "After all we've been through, we're still married and stronger than ever. I'd say that's one pretty good thing."

I spent the day with good friends and then grudgingly went with Chris to a Townes Van Zandt tribute concert.  As I stood there complete happiness flowed through my body.  I was listening to the music (maybe even dancing a little)  and I thought, "Twenty five years ago I would have never dreamed I would be here on a New Year's Day night having a great time. In a bar, in Louisville, listening to music that 25 years ago I'd never heard.  It's not at all what I planned or even what I would have thought would make me happy..." And it hit me.  I'm not in charge. Life happens in ways we don't plan and that we can't control, but if we just hold on, if we just ride out the bad and bask in the good, everything will be okay.

The next morning the New Testament reading for the Daily Office was Colossians 3:12-17 which was the NT reading at our wedding.  As I read the words, "Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience.  Bear with one another, and if anyone has a complaint against one another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony." tears--but this time tears of joy--poured down my face. I remembered the words of The Rev. Donald Fishbourne's homily and how he said, "Not if you hurt each other, but when you hurt each other" and I knew this is it.

Living these words has kept our marriage strong even through times when many marriages break, and living these words is why I believe our family will stay strong and together.  We will be different; we will change; but our love will bind us together forever.  "Who knows where we'll all be in 25 years," I thought, "But I know we'll still love, we'll have lots of memories some bad but mostly good,  and we'll still be the O'Doyles."

So no, it wasn't a perfect Christmas.  It was probably a Christmas like others sometimes have--a Christmas of transition, a Christmas of hurt, a Christmas of grief, but it was still Christmas, and God, the God of love, still came and that same God still stays--will always stay.

And now I am looking with great hope into 2016...bring it on!