When my dad died, I was cleaning the bathroom.
I know that seems so insignificant to remember, but I know the exact feeling of standing there cleaning the bathroom and hearing the phone ring.
It was my brother. I missed it the first time, but when he called back he said, “Did you hear?”
“No.”
I was cautious, but I wasn’t expecting what came next.
“Dad passed away.”
I thought he was joking. Why would he joke about something like that? But still, for a moment, I thought maybe he was mistaken.
We hung up.
I just stood there, mop in one hand and phone in the other. Still.
I walked down to my husband and said, “I think my dad died.”
Silence.
Just like that, my dad was gone.
I tried to remember the last time I had seen him, but it wouldn’t come to me.
The Peace That Doesn’t Make Sense
I remember standing there when this peace came over me. This little voice spoke to my heart:
Don’t worry. He’s with Me. Have peace.
I have never in my life so clearly heard God’s voice or felt Him near me as I did in that moment.
And I have also never in my life felt so immediately undone.
The tears fell.
Looking back, I think of the words in Philippians:
“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 4:7
That is the only way I know how to describe it. It didn’t make sense. My heart was broken, but somehow, in the middle of that heartbreak, there was peace.
Grief and peace existed in the same moment.
Maybe you’ve experienced that too. Maybe you’re walking through it right now.
Grief Feels Different During the Holidays
It was December. After Thanksgiving, but before Christmas.
And I always think of my dad during the holidays. Always.
I imagine myself standing in the hallway by the bathroom, holding a mop in my hand. Then I remember the peace. I close my eyes and remember what it felt like to be covered in a blanket of comfort and warmth.
There is something about grief during the holidays that feels different.
The world is celebrating. The music is playing. The decorations are up. People are buying gifts, attending parties and making memories.
And sometimes, right in the middle of all of it, you’re missing someone.
Scripture doesn’t tell us that following Jesus means we won’t grieve. In fact, Jesus Himself wept.
“Jesus wept.”
John 11:35
Those two words have always held so much meaning. Jesus knew Lazarus would be raised, and yet He still entered into the sorrow of the people He loved.
I think that’s important for us to remember at Christmas.
Jesus is not uncomfortable with our grief.
He isn’t asking us to hurry through it so we can get back to being joyful. He meets us in it.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
Psalm 34:18
You Have Permission to Grieve and Celebrate
Sometimes I wonder if the pain and busyness of the holidays can distract us from the incredible power of this season.
There is nothing like stopping to be grateful at Thanksgiving.
And there is nothing like remembering the gift of Jesus coming to save us at Christmas.
That is the true power of this season, right?
Something my mom said to me when my dad died changed my perspective of Christmas. She said:
“This is for Jesus. We do this first.”
I felt like my heart had permission to still celebrate Christmas even while I was grieving.
I didn’t have to choose.
I could miss my dad and celebrate Jesus.
I could cry and still sing the Christmas songs.
I could feel the ache of someone missing from the room and still feel gratitude for the people who were there.
I could grieve and have hope at the same time.
The Christmas story itself reminds us why.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
John 1:5
Christmas doesn’t require us to pretend there is no darkness. Christmas reminds us that the darkness does not win.
Jesus came right into the middle of our broken world. Emmanuel. God with us.
And sometimes God with us is exactly what a grieving heart needs most.
If Christmas Is Hard This Year, We See You
Today, my heart is for those in our midst who are silently struggling.
For those who have suffered a painful loss recently.
For those who are walking into the first Christmas without someone they love.
For those who have been grieving for years and are surprised that an old Christmas song, a familiar ornament or an empty chair can suddenly bring it all rushing back.
For those who feel alone.
We see you. We remember you. And Jesus knows.
You don’t have to manufacture joy this Christmas.
You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt.
But you can ask Jesus to meet you right there, in the middle of it.
He met me in a hallway with a mop in my hand.
He can meet you too.
Will you pray with me?
A Prayer for Anyone Grieving This Christmas
Father, we rejoice in this season and thank You for Your graciousness in our lives.
We also know this time of year can be incredibly difficult for so many.
Lord, surround those who are hurting. Bring them Your peace. Be especially near to the brokenhearted.
We can get so buried in this season. We go about our days shopping, working, wrapping presents and checking things off our lists. We don’t always see the pain around us, Lord.
We miss it sometimes, but You don’t.
You see the person trying to hold it together.
You see the empty chair.
You see the tears that come when no one else is watching.
You see the person wondering how Christmas can possibly feel like Christmas again.
Remind us that we are known by You. We are loved by You. And because You came to be Emmanuel, God with us, we are never alone.
Thank You for being close to the brokenhearted.
Thank You for the peace that doesn’t always make sense.
And thank You, Jesus, for coming into our darkness and bringing us hope.
Amen.
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