When I unpacked our Christmas decorations, I pulled out a little tree made of gold tinsel. I wouldn't think much of it, except that we bought it on clearance the year my baby died. That year, everything was painful. Breathing was painful. Existing was painful. It's hard to describe just how much agony comes upon a family that has just lost a child when the holiday season comes. Everything from a baby's first Christmas ornament to images of babies to paintings of angels to songs about mothers giving birth brought new pangs of loss. With that tinsel tree, my kids played an improv game named Props in which they brainstormed what that little tinsel tree could be from a mermaid fin to a cat's tail to a dunce cap to a nose. That little tinsel tree brought a rare smile to my face. It brought something so rare during such a painful season: laughter.
This one little item makes me reflect over the last seven Christmases since our angel came and left. I remember buying little angel ornaments with anticipation to add to our journal tree. Every year, we select and date an ornament to represent our year. We have a 2004 angel that represents our boy before he was born and a toddler ornament that represents him after his birth. We have similar ornaments to represent our next child. We bought both a solitary angel for Alli and an angel dancing with a little girl to represent both of our girls. Then, we bought a frame with wings in which to place our baby's photo after she passed. But most years, we buy one ornament to represent our vacations or the purchase of a house or a pet. Those ornaments, like our children's scrap books, remind us of the major events in our lives. We also have an ornament to represent our miscarried angels. We all sit together to put those special journal ornaments on our tree and reflect on our lives together. We smile together remember the fun moments as well as our losses. The tree represents all of it, the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Then, there's our angels' gift. Every year, it's the last present we open because it's the most important. Over the course of the holiday season for the last seven years, we've recorded every service we've done for our fellow man, even each other. We write them on slips and put them under the tree. We've made a point to add to it every chance we got. For the first few years, I needed something to think about other than the holiday season, itself. I have a friend who struggles financially, especially around the holidays. So every year for the first few years, I had my kids and me find presents for this family to make their Christmas a little bit brighter. Now, I don't need that emotional escape, but I still want to help. I still want to add to that service jar, the gift for my angels. So I give her a little money. I want her to have the joy of doing the Christmas shopping for her kids. This year, especially, we're looking for ways to bring a little bit of joy to others. That's what this season is all about: remembering the giver of all good things.
Due to these acts of healing and others as well as the healing power of the Lord, Christmas is no longer as painful as it once was. That doesn't mean it's free of tears and pain. But it is better. We don't have to let the holidays stay painful. We can find traditions, find ways to bring joy in spite of our pain. I hope you can do the same. Because the message of Christmas isn't one of pain but of joy, light, and love. When we share all of that with others, it comes more fully into our lives.
