As I prayed through my “prayer list” this morning, the deep pain scribbled on that post-it-note almost took my breath away. Oh, dear God, so much pain. A kid on chemo. A mom in therapy for PTSD “from my childhood.” A son back on drugs. A parent with dementia. Adult kids leaving marriages behind, (“it’ll never be the same again,” my friend murmured.) The death of a very difficult family member. (How do we grieve?) Suicides or threats thereof. ((When did the world get so dark that even a preteen can’t find a reason to keep living?) And so many more people carrying terrible loads that I won’t describe here because their news isn’t mine to share. And these are just the most urgent items that I jot down as they arise over a few weeks’ time. You probably have a list too...and I didn’t name the bits on my very own personal list. More pain.
Maybe you’re on my list. Or you would be if you would tell me what you’re carrying. It’s beyond heavy. It’s paralyzing. You’re not sure you’re going to be able to “do” Christmas. The holiday hoopla feels so pointless, so painful. Sitting in church, (if you can even go...) listening to carols, you’re not sure you really belong. You don’t want to be a wet blanket on other people’s Christmas spirit, but you can’t quite get there from here.
This poem is for you. You know who you are.
You’re lonely.
You’re wounded.
You’re grieving.
You’re estranged from people you thought loved you.
You’ve said the long goodbye.
You’re bowed beneath the load of life.
You’re sitting beside a hospital bed.
You’re waiting for the phone to ring, but it doesn’t.
You’ve just heard your doctor say the word malignant.
You’re broke. And broken too.
This poem is for you. For all the ones who can’t seem to muster any Christmas Spirit.
Christmas Spirit, for the rest of us
if your path is steep and rocky,
if your focus is your muddy, slipping feet.
It’s okay if you can’t look up...
if your eyes are swollen shut from sobbing,
if your memories blur your vision.
It’s okay if you can’t look up...
If you’re terrified of what you’ll see,
If you’re terrified of what you won’t see.
It’s okay if you can’t look up...
If you’re ready to give up,
If you think maybe you already have.
It’s okay if you can’t look up...
Because –
God. came. down.
For all the times we cannot look up,
cannot reach up,
cannot stand up,
cannot cheer up,
cannot keep up,
cannot wake up from the nightmare that life has become-
God came down. (You know, Emmanuel.)
It’s the whole point of everything.
God’s part? The Presence. The Present. In every sense of the word.
Our part? The Pause. The Yes.
God with us. God’s Spirit in us, beneath us, beside us, behind us, over us.
That’s the real Christmas Spirit. For the rest of us.
For all of us.
For everyone.
Every. One.
For me.
For you.