Holidays and Grief – Emmanuel Comes

God is with us during the holidays as we grief. It is okay to be sad. You are not alone.


signal-2017-02-16-101815-1The past week has been challenging for me due to illness. In addition, the holidays are here and so is grief for me and many people. My grief is the loss of my marriage. My friend lost his daughter to brain cancer. People have lost jobs, family members, friends, and ways of living. Grief, loss, death, stops for no one just because a holiday arrives.

My friend David, who lost his daughter, said he is going to do his best to be happy during the holiday. His attitude humbles me. I told him I wasn’t trying to be happy, just trying to get through them and get them over. That is what most of us do when we grieve and yet also need attend holiday or festive gatherings.

What is powerful in the Christian tradition at this time of year however, is that we celebrate God coming to us in the middle of it all. God comes to us in the middle of the muckety muck of life. The coming we celebrate is different than was expected in Joseph and Mary’s time. The expectation of a “messiah” was one who would deliver. Jesus came to be with us to help us through our challenges. We’re not being rescued in other words.

Darn. Sometimes we just want to be rescued. We want someone or something to just take away the pain. We want the grief to go away. Yet, when we lose someone, we always carry with us those memories of joyous times past. We know that no one can rescue us from the pain we suffer. We suffer because no more memories will be made with that person. For those losing a job, it means starting over. For the newly disabled, it is learning to live with physical limitations that can affect self-worth.sad woman

When the holidays or a celebration arrives that a grieving person is expected to attend, sometimes the grief seems even larger; maybe even formidable. The grief feels larger because of the person missing, but also because we know others will expect the griever to be happy. Grief is not something easily stuffed down into a person’s heart and soul. When grief is stuffed, it can become a health hazard mentally and physically. What can we do to survive the holidays while grieving and also wanting (or trying) to be present for others still here?grief

The first thing is to be real and be truthful. When asked how one is doing, perhaps a response like “still hanging in there” is a good response. That is truthful for me while trying to accept where I am, but also trying to move forward. There’s a word that I’m looking for that is not “happy” or “joy”, but is related to love.

This morning as I sat in my meditative time, my soul suddenly said, “I love my life.” When I lived with my ex-wife, my heart and soul said that all the time. That has bubbled up in this new place and I’ve wondered about it. When that happens, does it mean I wasn’t truly happy in my former life in Sylva? Of course not. Perhaps “gladness” is the word for which I search. It’s not as exuberant to me as “happy” or “joy”.

All during this trying time, God has sent me messages about my being loved. Whether through dear friends, family, church, or my devotionals, the message is always the same. God loves you and you are not alone. This is the Christmas message. This is the message we celebrate in one called Emmanuel. Emmanuel means “God with us” and isn’t that the message of the entirety of scripture? That no matter where we go or what happens to us, God IS WITH US. We are not alone in our grief, loss, and sadness, no matter if it is a celebratory day or an ordinary day.

How can I love my life while grieving? I’ve asked myself that all these months. At first, that blossoming of that soul phrase made me feel guilty; perhaps my love was faulty in my relationship. Yet, we all have room to grow when it comes to loving another. At the same time, I loved my wife with all of my heart. As I continued to question what it meant for my soul to now exclaim “I love my life”, I began to see the beauty in my life in spite of the loss.

Yes, I have lost life as I knew it and had to move to a different town. However, God is still with me. When I lived in Spirit of the Mountain Lodge, God was there. My music, family, and friends still loved me. My dog always loves me of course (that’s why many believe the dog is most like God). These are all wonderful and beautiful gifts given to me and I am most glad to have them in my life. I did not lose all of that love and beauty by losing my wife.

“These three things remain; faith, hope, and love; and the greatest of these is love.”  1 Corinthians 13 (my summary)

No matter what we go through: faith, hope, and love remain. Love is the greatest because it always changes one for the better. My wife’s feelings changed for me. While that is heartbreaking, she loved me well when we were together. On some level, she still loves me now. The real thing that matters however is that I still have those eleven years of love. Part of the grief is that the love we have for each other will change. Yet, even then, all the love that came before changed me into a better and more loving person. My life is better now because I was loved then.

“There are many tenets of Wholeheartedness, but at its very core is vulnerability and worthiness; facing uncertainty, exposure, and emotional risks, and knowing that I am enough.”   


God’s message to me during my devotion time today was so powerful that I could see that even though it feels like I’ve failed at marriage, I am still enough. I put on my “BE” shirt today. My counselor has been encouraging me to “love myself” and that’s something that has always been hard and a bit confusing for me. Yet, with the message from scriptures today and my soul’s comment, I think I get it.

I am enough for God. God uses the weak, broken-hearted, the down trodden. When we look at the life of scripture and those lifted up as great in church history, we see time and again that God uses the ordinary to create the extraordinary. God is that powerful. God can use someone like me. Like Moses. Like Paul. Like Mary. God can create an extraordinary miracle of love, even in someone as small and ordinary as a baby, like Jesus.




Helpful books during a time of crisis:

Social scientist Brené Brown, PhD, LMSW , Braving the Wilderness

Pema Chödrön, Fail, Fail Again, Fail Better

December 2016

Grieving during the holidays, how do we rejoice? Let us always follow the light.


December 2016 is here already. How did that happen? I’m not sure what happened to the rest of the year. It was a pretty bad year, so maybe I hid a lot. Of course, the reality is that I was sick a lot this year…for most of this year if I’m truthful. I finally had to stop working because my health continued to put me down. Then, the election and wildfires happened in our area. The wildfires still burn and people still feel threatened on many levels.  There’s nothing as frightening as feeling that your world is burning down around you.


As I write, I am listening to Don Oiche ud i mBeithil*, a Gaelic Carol trying to get in the “holiday” mood. The chant is lovely and calming. I listened to Of the Father’s Love Begotten, another carol at least ten times. It’s one of my favorite carols. Still, I feel like a stranger in some weird outpost where Christmas is strange and foreign. I bought a beautiful, handmade Advent wreath in preparation, thinking that this household tradition would bring back some of the magic of the holiday. My wife put up a tree. There is beauty and light in the darkness, but I can’t say that there’s magic for me this year.

How can I rejoice, when just over the mountains in Gatlinburg, there are tragic deaths because of fires set by juveniles? Thousands of acres of forests have burned because of arsonists who are not juveniles, who should have known better. How can I rejoice when I know that my young friend who died suddenly has left behind a grieving mother, a grieving family?

I think on my friend who lost her wife of 30+ years, what is Christmas to her? What is Christmas to me as I still grieve my own loss of my dad two years ago? The loss of my old dog, Bear? How long before the magic of Christmas returns again, or does it leave forever if you have no children?


Page from a French Book of Hours
Page from a French Book of Hours

Als I Lay on a Yoolis Night is an Old English tune that seems to capture my mood. “As I lay on Yule Night alone in my longing…” is the line speaking to me as well as the tune and haunting sound of harp and psaltry playing accompaniment. As I listen to more ancient carols from different regions, perhaps I want to know that I too can rejoice in the midst of a frightening world. In comparison, our world, with all its craziness is still a safer more stable place than the world that surrounded the writers of these carols. Can I sing even when my heart is breaking? Can I find beauty in the world around me even in the midst of the charred remains of trees of life?

The beauty of the ancient carols, paintings, illuminated pages of prayers and hymns is to remind us that there IS something beyond the sadness. There will be light in the darkness even if we can’t see it at the moment.



*Gaelic and English Translations

Don oíche úd i mBeithil
beidh tagairt faoi ghréin go brách,
Don oíche úd i mBeithil
gur tháinig an Briathar slán;
Tá gríosghrua ar spéartha
‘s an talamh ‘na chlúdach bán;
Féach Íosagán sa chléibhín,
‘s an Mhaighdean ‘Á dhiúl le grá
Ar leacain lom an tsléibhe
go nglacann na haoirí scáth
Nuair in oscailt gheal na spéire
tá teachtaire Dé ar fáil;
Céad glóir anois don Athair
sa bhFlaitheasa thuas go hard!
Is feasta fós ar sa thalamh
d’fheara dea-mhéin’ siocháin!

I sing of a night in Bethlehem
A night as bright as dawn
I sing of that night in Bethlehem
The night the Word was born
The skies are glowing gaily
The earth in white is dressed
See Jesus in the cradle
Drink deep in His mother’s breast
And there on a lonely hillside
The shepherds bow down in fear
When the heavens open brightly
And God’s message rings out so clear
Glory now to the Father
In all the heavens high
And peace to His friends on earth below
Is all the angels cry