You Won't Want To Instagram This

What if Christmas was more than the Hobby Lobby decorations and the traditional yearly photos with Santa? The Christmas light competitions, the recipes we only make once a year, the holiday craft ideas that we can't stop pinning on Pinterest...what if it was all part of what is really taking away from what Christmas is about? What if Christmas wasn't even about the mandatory family get togethers, who brings what dish to the Christmas meal, or even those cute holiday photos that we are all guilty of posting on Instagram and Facebook for our friends to see? 

Ten years ago I decided that I hated Christmas. I hated the music, the lights, the smiles on peoples faces, and even the promise that Christmas was supposed to mean something that felt good on the inside. On the night before Christmas, my world fell apart. Ten years ago, I slept through the entire day of Christmas on purpose.

Everyone remembers their first winter break as a college freshman. It meant pure freedom from studying and clean laundry. My countdown for winter break had started the day after classes began that semester. I came home from school in enough time to join my family at our church's annual Christmas program. It was a pretty typical family outing. Our family could barely get to church on time and it was an added bonus if we could walk in with everyone in the family smiling at each other. That night I stayed up late talking to my Dad about all kinds of things, catching him up on my latest drama and even falling asleep on the couch because I probably talked myself to sleep. 

The next morning my mom woke me up on the couch telling me we needed to call 911. My dad had a seizure and needed to get to a hospital. Although he said he was fine, they told us they wanted him to be evaluated at the local ER. After scans and tests they found out that he had a brain aneurysm. They were going to have to put a stint in his brain as soon as possible to prevent any future anerysms from happening. My dad had cystic fibrosis and was a recipient of a double lung transplant just 4 years prior. What would be a basic procedure was never just basic. It was extremely complicated from start to finish. As they made plans to transfer him to a hospital that specialized in brain surgeries, I made plans for my little brother to stay with a friend. They were prepping my dad for surgery and my mom had to battle the nurses to have them wait to take him into surgery so that I could see him before he went in. I sped all the way through downtown and made it there just in time to see him before the wheeled him down the hallway. The nurses were not very happy about having to wait for me to get there, but I am so glad that I was. I had no idea that would be the last time I would ever hear my dad talk to me. There was nothing profound or picture perfect about it, he was all looped up on surgery meds and all I can remember is him asking for a coke when his surgery was over. 

The surgery didn't go very well and because of some pre-op things that had gone wrong with my dad's body they decided to keep him sedated and try again in a few days when things had leveled out. They eventually performed the brain surgery and we entered into a very long week of post-op nightmares. They couldn't get him to come out of his anesthesia without some major complications, so the next decision was made to keep him in a medically induced coma until things could calm down. Each day stats were changing and medical terms were being thrown around so quickly that no one could keep up with what was really going on. Every day we were told by the doctors & nurses that my dad might not make it through. See, I grew up with that phrase because cystic fibrosis is terminal. I was told on a quarterly basis that my dad might not "make it". I taught myself that it was normal to live like that and to constantly be aware of what a worst case scenario might look like. I was a professional at worse case scenarios, and I still am.

When they told me that each day might be his last, there was a part of me that didn't really believe them. I had heard doctors tell us that so often in the past, and somehow my dad always did the opposite of what they would predict. I slept in the ICU waiting room, going in every day to talk to my dad and not so sure that he could even hear me. I went in and talked about the Cowboys game, prayed, and even at one point begged him not to give up because my family couldn't handle it. We would hang out in the lobby like it was a normal thing to do, and even hang out with relatives that I hadn't seen in a long time like it was a mini family reunion. We would hear codes called over the intercom for the nurses and doctors, and never know if it was related to my dad or not. It became my daily routine for ten days straight, and I was exhausted. 

Christmas eve morning I was back at my usual spot in the waiting room. I was making phone calls to family friends and relatives letting them know that the nurses didn't have a very good report from the night before. He wasn't doing good. The code came across the intercom, and I was alone. My mom had to run to the local pharmacy to get a prescription, and it was just my uncle and I. The doctors called me into that special room that you get to visit when someone passes away, and asked me what to do next. They had explained to me that he had coded and they had been trying to resuscitate him for a while and wanted to know how much longer I wanted them to go on for. I was 18, and all of a sudden I was making decisions much bigger than who I was dating and what I wanted for Christmas. I knew before my mom came back that he had died. My uncle and I sat in that room with the doctors I had known for years watching them cry and saying they were sorry, and we just sat there. I had my strong face on, and I called my mom and told her to come as fast as she could. 

I didn't want anyone coming to visit me at the hospital that day. I had already told the lady at the reception desk not to let anyone come visit, but she let one of my friends stay and came and got me. She told me she thought I needed my friend. There were no words, just a hug. And at that moment, thats all I needed and all I could handle.

I only had one thing on my mind when I came home that night, I had to get my brother and talk to him. My brother had been at his friend's house all day and he was so young that had absolutely no idea what had just happened that day. I took him back to my room and talked to him about the day's events. I finally told him that our dad had died and that he wasn't coming home. His response was something I will never forget. After processing it for a minute he looked at me with both hope and sadness in his eyes and said "thats ok, I'll see him in heaven one day".

Waking up on Christmas morning was not easy. We woke up and watched my little brother have the Christmas joy that I could probably never find again, and he opened each present one by one. He was so excited to open them and he thought that all of the presents were from my dad, which means he held onto those gifts a little tighter that day.  I hit a point of pure exhaustion on Christmas morning and I couldn't keep my emotions in anymore. I went to my mom and dad's bed and cried myself to sleep and slept the entire day. Christmas was awful that year. And the year after that, and even the year after that. I would cringe when I heard the holiday music playing, Christmas decorations being put out, and even hearing people talk about how excited they were that Christmas was coming soon. Christmas was no longer about what I wanted to put on my Christmas list. Christmas reminded me of how messed up things really are. 

Even though its been ten years since that day, I am more and more aware every year of how far away we've gotten from why we even celebrate Christmas. My Facebook is full of hyper-spiritualized blogs about the "reason for the season", plenty of Pinterest ideas to keep you busy for years, my never-ending checklist of things to get done before the holidays, and yet somehow we've still missed it. 

Its taken me a few years to like Christmas music, and now my husband actually has to set a date to when I can start listening to it. I might have tried turning it on in October. Don't judge. I've had to adjust to all of the over-the-top decorations and holiday parties, and even the Christmas services in church with the cute caroling melodies they want you to join in with. I'm still not a huge fan. I can't say that Christmas has been easier to celebrate because of my circumstances, but I can say that my entire belief in why I even celebrate this holiday has completely transformed. I'm not just celebrating the fact that there was a story that happened in the bible thats cute to act out in a play. It's a time when my heart hurts deeply with how messed up our lives and world really are, and I am without words when I think about the redemption that comes with the birth of a little baby boy who later died for us. It is the hope and the promise that is spoken in God's word that this is not the end of the story. This messed up life, the drama, the death, the illness, the hurt..its not the end. 

Every Christmas I'm tempted to get resentful, and some days I am, but I also remember that even though catchy Christmas music is playing in the stores and decorations are covering houses from top to bottom, people are hurting badly. Just because the calendar says December 25th does not mean the hurt stops, or that the world lives in peace for one full day. It doesn't even mean that family members will get along that day. But it does mean that the story doesn't end there. 

I am so thankful for a faith that isn't dependent on my circumstances. I would buckle. Every year on Christmas I remember a day when I had no strength in my body or my heart, and I was carried. I was held up, comforted, and given the strength to get out of bed when I didn't think I could. Its in the messy parts of life that you have to decide what your hope is in. If my hope was in my dad, in my circumstances, or even what I felt at that moment I know I would never be where I am at today. I don't think I would have ever gotten out of bed. 

My hope and truth is this: 

Romans 5
Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, ² through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. ³ Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;⁴ perseverance, character; and character, hope. ⁵ And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.⁶ You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. ⁷ Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. ⁸ But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

So this Christmas Eve lets stop making a big deal over the cute decorations or the catchy music and making sure we check everything off of our to-do list. Lets just all agree that this is one messed up world and if we don't share our hope in Christ with others, what hope do they have? I am challenging you to go to a Christmas eve service this year. Even if you've never been to a church in your entire life, go and try it out. What do you have to lose? Let go of the expectations of how pretty the decorations in the service will be, or how it will make you feel on the inside. And for those that attend church weekly, lets go together and lose the personal expectations and just worship. Lets go and be thankful for a Savior who didn't look at our filth and say that we weren't worth it. Celebrate with me this year, that this isn't the end of our story. Let's celebrate and sing together, and acknowledge that we are some messed up people who need God now more than ever. Because with tears in my eyes and memories in my heart Im going to celebrate that death has no power over my life, the birth of a king made sure of that.

Merry Christmas.