The Most Depressing Time of the Year
I love Christmas. Love. With a passion. You will definetly see me skipping around this time of year, wrapping everything I get near and singing “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!” while watching Hallmark movies nonstop, but it doesn’t always feel that wonderful.
Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years all pile up to form a trifecta of togetherness that can overwhelm anyone who is separated from a loved one and lead them down a dark drag of depression and desperation. I have countless stories of of tears and drama that make up the ghosts of my Christmas’ past. One of the hardest things is dealing with a crash of reality after taking on an extra expectation of miracles… because it’s Christmas–the time for miracles, right?
My husband and I are still waiting on our Christmas miracle (or anytime miracle for that matter). 2017 marks the sixth Christmas we have spent together. Our memories together are joyous and wonderful things to celebrate–and I have the Hallmark ornaments to prove it! However, this time of year (and every moment we celebrate throughout the year) is a double-edged sword of joy and heart break. 2017 also marks the sixth Christmas we have spent alienated from our children.
Every year I hold onto the hope that the magic of Christmas will bring peace and reconciliation, and so far every year I have been disappointed. The more I hope, the harder I hurt. But I cannot stop believing. I will not stop believing. God intends to heal our family. My job is to wait and trust. And I will continue to do as I have every year, and trim the tree, wrap the gifts, and stuff the stockings in the anticipation of my family being whole at Christmas. One day it will be. And that will be the most wonderful time of our lives.
