Christmas music has officially replaced the smooth soulfulness of Adele's "Hello" as the soundtrack of the season. The reminder that "the most wonderful time of the year" has arrived is jingled everywhere you go, from parking lots to the grocery store to the radio scan in the car. And to many, this rings true. The abundance of memories "of Christmases long, long ago" still holds a magical spell over the calendar-packing insanity that this month has become. While it may be true for you that the festive music, the scents of pine needles and sugar cookies, the big bows and striped wrapping, or the celebration of Christ's birth rekindle a spark of joy unlike any other month of the year, friend, can we be real together for a few minutes?
Behind many of those plastered on smiles you see bustling through the aisles is deep, wounded brokenness. Brokenness that barely musters the strength to acquiesce to "everyone telling you be of good cheer" with a smile, but that is still frantically attempting to patch up holes left by the recent loss of beloved grandparents. Brokenness that feels compelled to give an upbeat, optimistic answer to "how are things?" for fear that no one really wants to know how depressed the unfair, vindictive, forced resignation has made her because right now it does not feel like the "hap-happiest season of all." Brokenness that has made the office a second home because of the pain that he's not invited to those "gay, happy meetings" and no "friends come to call." Brokenness that has learned the safety of isolation after years of being torn down by the soul-crushing tongue of a resentful spouse, but who publicly goes through the rote motions of "much mistletoeing" though the heart isn't glowing since loved ones aren't near.
To the joyful friend who does believe this is the most wonderful time of the year, have you looked beyond her grin? Dear friend, have you noticed him? Are you too frantic "preparing Him room" that you neglect time to see those who need Him the most?
And to you, dear one, who tries to shove that brokenness in the closet because you feel you need to BE something else right now, know this: It's okay to not be okay.
I am pretty sure more of us fit into this second category than we'd like to admit. Will you allow me the honor to encourage you today? Trust one person enough to express that you're not okay; that this does NOT feel like the most wonderful time of the year. Allow someone else to bear your burden in love. If you don't know who you can trust with that, send me a message.
