We hosted the sixth annual Fab family Christmas party a few
days before Christmas. The turnout and
energy this year seemed especially high as the kids and parents hung around
later and were very engaged with each other and our family.
As I worked around the group and especially as I chatted
with the boys and girls who were Daniel’s closest friends in high school, I
struggled with the complexity of my feelings.
In so many ways, these kids are thriving as they go through their third
or fourth years in college, facing the new questions about life with its
romantic challenges, new ideas and concepts they are being exposed to through
their academic work, and now, questions about what to do next as they began to
see graduation on the horizon. I found
myself incredibly excited by them and for them and inspired by their enthusiasm
and zest for life, while also struggling mightily at times to hold off my
jealously and even resentment that Daniel is missing out on these same
experiences.
In my humanity, I yearn so badly to see my son growing up
and blossoming along with these beautiful friends of his. Yet somehow I also hold onto the sense that
Daniel is okay in his heavenly state, all the while feeling the loneliness and
sadness of the separation.
My heart remains very muddled.
God is holding my
hand through music and prayer
As we celebrated Christmas this year, I found the tears coming
when we sang Silent Night at the Christmas Eve service and when I tried to finish
saying grace at our family’s Christmas morning breakfast.
Somehow my emotions open up and come forth when I also am
opening up my spirit to God. It seems
like during these moments of song and prayer I feel God’s gentle touch and that
in turn opens me up to feeling the pain and loneliness that I carry.
It is almost as if God my father is reaching down and
holding my hand, inviting me and enabling me to be honest and free in that
moment to feel more fully and to express my deep brokenness and abiding grief.
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