Christmas Grief

I'm thinking a lot about grief this holiday.

It's the first time in 15 years that I haven't been forcing people to think about Advent before flinging ourselves into Christmas.  The first time I haven't been preparing a Christmas Eve Service.  And since I've always found profound spiritual depth in the preparation for others, I find I've missed the discipline of the preparation and of sharing my meditations with others. 

There's also grief around living in an absolutely different environment that I've ever lived before.  It's very hard for this girl from the North to believe it's nearly Christmas when it's in the 80s and I'm wearing shorts and a t-shirt.  All my Christmas stuff is in storage in Massachusetts.  I did find two of my nativity sets and I bought some poinsettias at the store, but...I was determined to eschew all the "traditional" (i.e., English/Germanic) traditions of American Christmas, to find ways to celebrate that reflect my environment, an indigenous celebration as it were, but I really don't know how to do that.  There is one florist with a decorated palm tree, but essentially everyone here puts up evergreens and  snowmen and decorations in green and red plaid.  It's 80 degrees and Target is selling flannel sheets with snowflakes on them. I can't find a way to mark the season that feels right.

I'm also very aware of folks who are dealing with real grief and loss.  I'm reaching the point where more and more friends have lost a spouse, a parent, a dream.  I've always been aware of the issues of depression around the holidays, and worked hard to reach out to folks in a special way around Christmas.  But somehow it seems even more real this year, and I don't know how to help.

I've always believed that Christmas is about joy and not merriment; about God entering the world of pain and grief to share it with us, to transform it (and us) and not to just to wave a magic wand and make it all go away.  But I don't think I've ever experienced it as deeply as I am this year, not in the year after my grandfather died, nor the years we were struggling with infertility, nor the years I spent as a single woman alone.  Because theology is important in life, but it isn't the only way we understand our existence.  And celebration isn't our ultimate goal, but it is important for our well`being.

I've got one Christmas CD here, carols done in a Celtic style, which is helpful, because it reflects the minor key of my emotions about this, but also carries notes of hope and lilting possibilities of joy.  Joy is never unalloyed, and grief contains possibilities of joy.  At least at Christmas in this life.