I’ll not call this a Christmas letter, just a greeting from the heart
Sunday I made a point of wearing a shirt to coordinate with Evelyn’s dress so we could pose for a Christmas picture in the church lobby.
I was pleased with the result. The folks around us were joking, and Evelyn was laughing at them. So here we are, to wish Merry Christmas to everyone who will discover this digital greeting.
This is the second year in a row, the only two years since we’ve been married, that I haven’t sent Christmas cards. It was always a big deal to pick them out together, and even in the years when I inserted a Christmas letter, I would add a little personal greeting on each one.
But there’s just no bandwidth for that now.
We could have shared . . .
Such Christmas letters always contain employment updates, travel photos, or news about children’s and grandchildren’s achieved milestones or successes.
We’d certainly have plenty to share. Our kids and their spouses are all doing well, achieving in their careers, and making an impact in their worlds. We are so, so proud of them. Likewise, their children bring us special joy, each of them healthy and moving forward in ways that make us smile. But this is a blog post, not a Christmas letter. So I’ll skip those details, for the sake of readers who don’t know these people.
Evelyn and I have no big news of our own, of course. We did celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary this year, as well as we could. I invited a few friends for a dinner catered by Olive Garden. We enjoyed the meal and the happy conversation, even though Evelyn had trouble sticking with us the whole evening.
But here’s the problem . . .
Beyond that, what could I say about us in a Christmas letter? Details about the slow decline Evelyn is experiencing are unnecessary and unpleasant. Suffice it to say, they’re right when they call Alzheimer’s a devastating disease. Mix in the symptoms and setbacks of Parkinson’s and you create a situation that’s difficult at best. I could elaborate, but not in a Christmas letter.
Or I could ignore all that and simply show a collage of pictures with Evelyn smiling—with friends, or those beautiful grandchildren, or cousins and brother and other in-laws.
Although staged, each photo is a fair indication of the pleasant realities that have also been a part of our year. (I see Evelyn’s pretty smile every day, not just for the pictures.) I can’t overlook all the good, but it seems like denial to describe it alone.
I can’t overlook all the good, but it seems like denial to describe it alone.
This is the problem with most Christmas letters, isn’t it? No one writes about dysfunction or disease or difficulty in a Christmas letter! But we know plenty of it exists. We know because we see it in ourselves and our own situations.
So I’ve come to this . . .
So maybe the solution is to take the focus off self and put it where it belongs, on the event this holiday is supposed to celebrate.
I’m discovering solace and satisfaction in redirecting my thoughts toward not only the birth of Jesus but also the purposes of God seen in it.
When we remember how ancient prophets foretold the details of that birth centuries before it happened . . . .
When we ponder the purpose for Jesus’ coming, seen in his ministry and revealed in his teaching. . . .
When we think about the aftermath of his death, as remarkable as the details of his birth. . . .
When we look at the big picture and not just at the nativity scene on our mantel, we cannot give up hope.
And here’s how I’m standing . . .
The online Advent devotions offered by Biola University this year are inspiring hope as they focus on Isaiah, perhaps the most famous of those ancient prophets. Among his words are phrases cherished by Christians, for example this promise contained in a post last week:
“But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31 NKJV).
Most Christmas letters convey some sense of having arrived. Look where this year brought us! But reflecting on Isaiah’s promise, my mood is more Look, I’m still determined to get there! I’m still standing. Walking, in fact. I’ll admit to moments of weariness, but I haven’t fainted yet.
We’ve set a candle like this as a Christmastime centerpiece for years. We’ll light it again this week.
Sometimes God surprises me with how he renews strength. A few examples:
We have more food in our refrigerator and freezer, given to us just this week, than we’ll possibly finish this holiday.
I’ll receive the warm encouragement of my support group in a Zoom meeting this morning and share affirmations of faith with worshippers this weekend.
Loving caregivers have been here two afternoons so I could share lunch—and faith— with faithful friends.
Family will join us soon, committed to helping me create good times despite the challenges.
All of this gives me hope, and energy to keep waiting expectantly for God to show me what’s next.
Perhaps I would have said some of that if I had sent a Christmas letter this year. But for now, at this crossroads in our journey, this blog post will have to do.
To every reader, be assured our wish for you is from the heart:
May the grace of God, shown so surprisingly to us, be clear this year to you, too.
Merry Christmas!