Two years ago, even last year, songs surrounding Christmas about the baby, the angels, birth were hard for me. Tears would spring to my eyes at unexpected moments. One of my favorite songs, "What Child Is This?" was off my menu for a while because it talked too much about my triggers.
This year, I've held a beautiful 2-month-old baby and older little ones, sung and listened to Christmas songs, put the angel on the Christmas tree, and sought ways to serve so I could put those acts of service on little slips of paper to put in my angels' jar to be opened on Christmas, and involved myself in any number of former triggers and felt little to no pain. I hope this is a sign of healing. I'd like to think it is. I've thrown myself into this ordinarily painful season with abandon. It's not a perfect time. I still look at the photos and other reminders of my angels on the tree and feel a moment of sadness. But it feels okay because other symbols on the tree, those of the Lord who overcame death, have come to mean a little bit more to me. It still hurts to ponder my losses, but I know it's not forever. I will hold my angels again.
