No matter how old I get, I will never be able to sleep on Christmas Eve.
Decades pass, but every Dec. 24, I lie awake waiting for sleep that doesn’t come. I’ve always loved Christmas. Everything about it. The minute December rolls around, I’m seven years old again, waiting for Christmas morning.
But I’m not seven anymore. And Christmas doesn’t seem to have the same magic when it’s spent in guest rooms and on couches of houses that aren’t really mine.
Christmas feels like it’s designed for the nuclear family, and everyone who doesn’t fit that mold misses out. It’s the time for family movie nights, dinner and pancakes in the morning while opening gifts—Mom and Dad sipping coffee while wrapping paper flies across the floor.
But what about children of divorce?
What about families who can’t afford the presents under the tree or even the tree itself?
Families separated by an ocean and political turmoil – unable to return home?
What about families who recently lost a loved one and can’t see the point of holiday cheer without them?
Holidays often hurt. Something about them makes the ache worse than usual, like an old broken bone on a rainy day. It’s the time when families are supposed to be together but sometimes can’t even handle being in the same room. When we don’t know what to do with the traditions that used to be carried by family members who are no longer with us. It’s when some can’t attempt to celebrate peace on earth because, for many, that peace simply isn’t there.
I am overjoyed for everyone whose Christmas is still a time of overwhelming joy for their family. Please absorb every single moment of it. Live this holiday season as if it were your last because we have no idea how long we will get the gifts that we have. Enjoy it– every second.
But for the rest of us… the man whose birth Christmas celebrates came for us.
He came for the fatherless.
He came for the widow.
He came for the poor in spirit, the mourning, and the broken.
He came for the oppressed.
He came for the unhoused and the poor.
He came for the very people for whom this season is the hardest.
I don’t pretend to think that this makes the pain of the moment fade into nothing. Christmas isn’t that merry for those who fall into this category. And even this message only sometimes makes it so. But it does provide hope even amidst that pain. So, to kids from one to 92, you are not alone. I pray you find the hope you can in the next few weeks. Merry Christmas.
