Today’s post in the Wives of Faith Blog Carnival is a pretty personal one for me. I’m sure a lot of the other military wives will have cheerier posts for you to read but I hope mine may touch someone out there who can relate. You see, Christmas has not always been a happy holiday for me in the past. It’s usually been the time of year that I dread the most. A mixture of sadness, frustration, tension, angst and wishing what might have been.
Cliff and I married in 1998 and in 2001, our son was born. That same year my parents separated after 29 years of marriage. The divorce soon followed. Whoever says divorce is easier as a child when you’re an adult doesn’t know what they’re talking about. The profound loss of stability and familiarity of an intact family, however less than perfect, crushed my spirit and confused my sense of normalcy. While Christmas should have been a happy, joyful time – and it was to a point for my little family of three, my husband, son and I – there was still the wisp of sadness that hung on everything, like smoke from a forest fire that lingers even after the forest itself has burned down.
The family I came from – my parents, my sister, my brother – suddenly went from a family of five to five individuals, at least that’s how I felt. The cohesion was gone. It was like the glue to our family’s nucleus had been scraped away and now we were all trying to figure out what to hold on to, and how that was even done. Holidays, Christmas specifically, just reinforced this feeling for me.
I started feeling enormous pressure to be there for everyone else. It wasn’t because others put that pressure on me, it was something I put on myself. Looking back, I wish I’d prayed more. But at the time, I admit, I was still going through the grief process of losing my parents’ marriage and I stayed in Stage 2 – Anger – for a long time. I knew I was absolutely blessed beyond measure to have my husband in my life, and my sweet little boy. Christmas was about celebrating a birth, about gathering together, but I often thought more about the death of my parents marriage more and it hung about my shoulders like an old mourner’s shawl. I had always loved the time of opening presents under the tree on Christmas morning with the family. I still had that, but the thought of my mom, my dad, my sister and brother (both grown and away with college and the military) all being in different places by themselves on those mornings bothered me and made me feel guilty for what I had.
So I went from feeling the pressure of being there for everyone else to shutting off completely. For years. And at Christmas especially. Sure, I enjoyed the time with my son and my husband but still, the smoke lingered. I know it bothered my husband at times. He could see the strain on my face the moment Christmas started approaching and once wished out loud that I would just let it go. I went for almost three years without speaking to my dad. My relationship with my mom was strained at times. And it was always hard to fully enjoy Christmas.
I wish I could point to a specific day that my feelings started to change, but I can’t. Little by little, though, the anger left. The forgiveness came. Not quickly, not cold turkey, but gradually my heart softened and I could breathe again. My dad and I started emailing. And then talking on the phone. And for the last couple of years, he’s been with us for Christmas. This year he’ll come right after Christmas. Things are good with my mom. She moved to our town just a few months before Cliff left for his first deployment a few years ago, and having her near has been a blessing and Caleb has loved having his Grammy nearby; he really doesn’t know it any other way now. I don’t either.
This year, at the beginning of December, listening to Christmas music in my car one day, I noticed the enormous smile on my face and for the first time in many years, I realized I was anticipating Christmas this year with joy. Not dread. With peace. Not despair.
Somewhere along the way, I let go. I started praying and asking God to heal the broken pieces of my heart. And He did.
So Christmas has a new meaning to me this year. It’s about new beginnings and new joy – both things which Christ brought to Earth when he came in the form of a baby. He came to save the world. And just as He saves us for eternity, He can also save our relationships with each other.
I am so grateful to Him for that.
For more stories from military wives on what Christmas means to them, visit Wives of Faith.
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Oh Sara, I had no idea we had this shared experience. Not that being a member of the ACOD club is fun–far from it. But I know what you mean. Those first few Christmases are hard. It still stings, but it’s easier…Love you lots!