When Christmas Isn't Merry

Today is Christmas Eve.  Tonight we’ll attend a candlelight service at my brother-in-law’s church; have dinner with my husband Bob’s family and drive home and anticipate all the merry mayhem that will take place tomorrow.

But something is missing.  Christmas has snuck up on me once again and I admit I’m going through a bit of holiday depression. 

Every Christmas season it happens, and every Christmas season I say I’m going to do it better next year.  Focus on Jesus more.  Listen to some more Christmas music.  Create some new holiday tradition. Make the house a little more festive.  Participate in one of those advent celebration rituals. 

But the season gets by and I realize that I’ve done it the same way I’ve always done it and it feels like something is missing – like somehow I’ve been cheated out of some Christmas magic.  Christmas is just sneaky that way.  It begins in January - creeps in slow and then takes off like rocket. 

It’s been a tough year (But haven’t most of them been?).  Let me count the ways:

 · My oldest child, Drew is still living 2,300 miles away in Seattle and I miss him and his wife Ashley terribly. 

· My oldest daughter Meagan moved out in the spring and is spending Christmas in Alabama with her boyfriend, Ethan, and his family. 

 

·  Bob was out of work for nearly six months. (But thankfully he’s found a new job.) 

· I got transferred to a new location and position on my job at the prosecuting attorney’s office (Against my will, I might add) and now my face is stuck in more mayhem and murder than before.  
 
· The day Bob went back to work, our back door was kicked in, our home invaded and some of our possessions were stolen.

· Then last month, we lost my sweet father-in-law James to cancer.

· And adding to the bittersweet – “ness” of this year – it’s just now hitting me that this may be the last Christmas we have with my youngest Bethany living under our roof full time as she prepares to graduate from high school and go off to college. 

The only thing that’s brought me through this tough year with a modicum of sanity is the hope of Christmas.  Not ‘Christmas’ the holiday, but ‘Christ-mas’ the Savior. 

More than the Christ-child in the manger, He is the God-man who gave His life for me.  And that would be true even if I was the only human being who had ever lived.  And it’s true for you too. 

It’s the Christmas gift that has kept on giving and it’s brought me through another tough year on planet earth. 

Again, let me count the ways:

 · When I’m worried about my kids that live out from under my roof – I pray for their safety and trust that God will watch over them.

·  When we were down to one job with one meager salary for the second time in as many years, I prayed for provision and we never missed a meal or lost our house. 

·  When my own job situation changed and I found myself angry and confused, God   answered with a whole new group of co-worker friends and people to encourage and pray for. 

· When I see tragedy and destruction that my job puts in front of me or think about the danger in the world around us, I hold on to the promise that one day the Savior is coming and He will wipe every tear from every eye.  (Revelation 21:4)

 
· While watching James suffer from the cancer, we prayed for healing and comfort.  God answered by calling James Home to place he’d longed for more than anything. 

There is a place in God’s house that Jesus has prepared for all of us who believe. Jesus said:

 

 “In My Father's house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also.” [John 14:2-3]

 

I can’t tell you what the hope of that statement does for me.  Well – Okay – I can:

It is the ultimate unwrapped Christmas present waiting for me that is my hope and longing that nothing in, of or from this world can EVER give me.  In the middle of life’s storms I can pause, wrap myself in the comfort and security of it and know peace. 

Sometimes I wish I could plant myself in that comfort forever and never leave.  One day at the end of this life I will.  In the meantime, I take the hope with me and I have a place here on earth to live and work and serve – and a job to do.  God has called me to minister, and this year I’ve done a poor job so far.

So I’m asking myself that profound question that John Lennon asked: 

 

“So this is Christmas. And what have you done? Another year over and a new one just begun.” [Emphasis added]

 

Really, it’s just time – past time - to bring my poor, depressed, broken self to the altar and pray for an answer. Then take that answer to the streets.
 

What about you?  What have you done?  What can you do?

Today is Christmas Eve.  (That’s where I came in with this musing). I haven’t missed it.  You haven’t missed it.  Let’s spend the day thinking of ways to give gifts that go beyond underneath the Christmas tree.  We can be living, breathing gifts to those around us. 

And Christmas doesn’t have to be the dividing line between a tough year and a new year’s resolution.  It can be the launching point between depression and the abundant life Jesus promised (John 10:10).  If you believe in the One who promised it and believe He will empower you to carry on and thrive.  He will, and if you believe, you will. 

Merry Christmas. 

Down a Long, Dark Tunnel

The death of comedian and actor Robin Williams is “trending” in the news today and will be for the next few days.  It brought a few thoughts to my troubled mind.

One is that perhaps more tragic than his death is the way he died.  Though the details have not been fully disclosed, we are being told by the media that Williams most likely committed suicide after a long bout with depression. 
 

Experiencing that kind of deep depression is like driving down a long, dark tunnel with no visible light signaling the end.  It feels like “no hope”.  Period.  Nothing to look forward to.  No happiness.  No friends or loved ones to lean on.  Just darkness. 

 

This, of course, is a lie.  However, it’s just as real as the “truest of truths” to a depressed person.  I’ve been there and, believe me, there aren’t enough Hallmark cards on the planet to cheer you up!  It just hurts – from the inside all the way out. 

Depression doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to those on the outside of it.  They can’t see any logical reason for it and oftentimes they run from it and those suffering from it like it was some sort of black hole they themselves might get sucked into.   In short, people fear what they don’t understand. 

The tragic counter to that is that depressed people often isolate themselves from others because they don’t want to “scare them off” by sharing their feelings.  I call it “backing the dump truck up and unloading in someone’s front yard.” 

And oftentimes, well-meaning friends and loved ones try and offer advice or try to think of the right thing to say.  Truth is, sometimes there are no right words to say “on the spot,” but just “being there” can be key. 

 

I think depression is one of Satan’s greatest weapons in his arsenal of death.  He uses it to weaken, cripple and isolate his prey like a prowling lion on a wounded gazelle.  Then he can strike.  Unfortunately, like Robin Williams, suicide is often the end result and the wreckage it leaves in its wake is unfathomable to someone who’s never been through it. 

I was deeply depressed from age 13 well into adulthood.  Many times I was suicidal, thinking that if I died no one would miss me and the world would be a better place – lies many suicidal people tell themselves.  Fortunately, I was way too scared to follow through.  I called it:  “Too scared to die, but too weak to live” – a virtual “hell on earth” that probably saved my life.  It was a “God-thing” I can’t explain.  I just know He used it to save me from hurting myself and a lot of others. 

Here’s the point:  While we can’t cure depression, we can help.  People need to know they are loved, cared for and appreciated.  By God.  By their families.  By their friends.  They need to hear it – perhaps even when they can’t feel it.  It’s those expressions they draw from on the dark days.  Cards, flowers, letters, emails, Facebook messages, gifts – whatever we can think of to show we care.  Bob and I once had a friend come over in the hot summertime and mow our lawn to show how much he cared.  Now that’s love, friends! 

I have a drawer in my house that I think of as my “good memory” drawer.  It’s full of birthday cards, thank you cards, just-because cards, notes, Bible verses, drawings and photos that remind me that I’m loved. 

I’ve been relatively depression-free for years, thanks to the unconditional (and I do mean unconditional!) love of Jesus Christ and medication. Still, sometimes the blues come and one dark thought crosses my mind.  If I dwell on it, the thought becomes a train of dark thoughts and I start heading down that tunnel again.  All it takes is one bad day, friends -- sometimes only an hour.  Dark thoughts can become decisions.  Decisions can become actions, and those actions can destroy families and leave them with no way to make sense of what has happened.  The true tragedy is that if that if that person could just “hold on” the train passes through the tunnel and it’s daylight again!

 
That’s why I keep that “good memory” drawer – and my Bible – close at hand. 

Psalm 34:18 tells me that “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
   and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” 

There are many more verses like that one in Scripture to remind me.  Sometimes I need to be bathed in them.  Other times I need a Bible “with feet and a pulse.”

 Friends, you and I can be that “Bible” to a hurting loved one.  Is there someone you haven’t heard from in a long time?  Someone you haven’t seen on Facebook in a while?  Someone who was just isn’t their usual cheerful self at work this week?  Or maybe it’s someone you haven’t seen at church in a while.  Perhaps you’ve had a thought to “text them” or “message them”.  Or if you’re old like me – you’ve thought of picking up a phone to call them.  Then that thought, like many other thoughts, gets buried in busyness.

Don’t just think it – say it or do it.  And don’t wait for it to get buried.  People need to be able to “smell the flowers while they’re still alive” as I once heard someone say. 

And if you know someone who has taken their own life, please don’t blame yourself.  Suicide is a personal action taken on by the person who makes the choice to do it.  There is enough pain left in its wake already.  Don’t take on the pain of guilt.   You are not to blame. 

What happened to Robin Williams was tragic.  I’m sad about it like many of you.  I think he was a great actor, and by the accounts I’ve read from the news, he was a kind person and a good friend to many.  Who knows what thoughts were in his mind on that day, and perhaps no words would have changed the outcome.  In a few days the tide will turn.  Current events will be new and his death will be just a memory for almost everyone except those who were close to him.   
 
There is a lesson to be learned here.  Say what you meant to say.  Do what you meant to do. It may make a difference.  It will certainly be a deposit in someone’s “good memory” drawer.