Saturday, November 18, 2017

Neither Merry not Bright



Thanksgiving is in a few days.

Gross.

Couple few years ago, Aaron, my older brother, adored by me since day 1, liberally slathered his turkey and taters in caramel sauce instead of gravy. Now, to understand the hilarity of the situation, Copernicus didn’t take one bite, surmise something was amiss, and assess. No sir, McCormick’s don’t do half measures. He devoured the sweet sauced food without commotion or complaint.  Every bite gone. Nary a morsel or a sweet scrap left.  After the family had polished off the stuffing and bird, we go for the good stuffs. Aaron inquired why everything tasted cloyingly so sweet. Bless.

 Aaron is one of the best people I’ll ever know. No contest. A cherished Thanksgiving memory that will surface in a few days. My family will need this happy memory to carry us through the first holiday season without our dad.  If we all don’t drown in our river of tears first.

Last year, at this time, between mom and dad’s house fire, my move from Chicago to the camper at the KOA, back to Chicago (wish I was making this up) dad’s job loss, heart attack, impending leg amputation, and rapidly declining health, “The Holidays” sucked.

Putting it mildly.

Our faith is the only way we survive the dark days. Walk by faith not by sight. What we’ve seen has been horrifyingly heartrending. We knew dad’s time was drawing near. An unspoken misery.

There is a time to be born. There is a time to die. Ashes to ashes. The circle of life.

We carried on secure in the knowledge, when we die, we know where the others are going. Someday, the circle won’t remain unbroken. If you don’t know where you will be going when you die, better get right with the Lord. There will be hell to pay. That’s it. It’s all the hope we have. It’s all you need.

Now more than ever, I understand why people dread this time of year. The lights are blinding. The songs & sleigh bells sting.  Pictures of togetherness make me more lonesome.

 I might jack slap the next punk who blasts Michael Buble’s Jingle Bells, especially if it’s before Thanksgiving. I’d like to ring his bell. I’ve cried every day for the past 6 weeks. You’d think about some point, you would run out of tears.  

Mariah Carey got it right,"But then I miss you, most at Christmas time." 





Amen. 

It’s a time to draw near. A time to pull in close. How do you do that when what you want to draw near to is gone? The eternal question. My heart aches for my loved ones wanting to draw near, but what they want to draw near to slipped through the cracks. For whatever reason. 

Loss is hell. Death, divorce, wayward children, you name it. 

An empty place at table.  An even bigger one in my heart. There is still much to be thankful for. Prayers still reach God’s ears if you have tears in your eyes.

I’m going to buy a real tree this year. I’m going to sit my family. We will watch the kids run around. There will be laughter. There will be tears. There will be a void. Dad is always in our hearts. His humor and faith will sustain us, when it’s not merry or bright. 

The sweet babe that came to save us all means more to me now than ever. Thankful for that home birthed cherub all those years ago.