Where are you Christmas?

"Where Are You Christmas"

Where are you Christmas
Why can't I find you
Why have you gone away

Where is the laughter
You used to bring me
Why can't I hear music play

My world is changing
I'm rearranging
Does that mean Christmas changes too

Where are you Christmas
Do you remember
The one you used to know
I'm not the same one
See what the time's done
Is that why you have let me go

Three days before Christmas, driving home, I listened to Faith Hill sing these words. Its been one of my favorite Christmas songs since I first saw The Grinch. I was tired in a way that can only be from days that are too long and stress that is too much.  I felt the lump in my throat and my chest start to tighten and without the energy to fight it I cried most of the way home. It has been such a crazy year of crazy. I thought about my world and truly how much everything was rearranging.  Last year at this time I had a plan mapped out and my goals were laid out in front of me.  Yet despite my plans so much had changed that I barely recognized my own life some days.  Physcially, I am fighting back again from another surgery that I hadn’t expected.  I am a foster mother to a 4 and 7 year old set of boys with special needs, 9 months into this “couple months” placement with no clear ending in sight.  My workload is busier than it has ever been and balance is a getting more than five hours sleep a night.  I lost my dog, people have left my life and some days I am not sure where I belong in my own life.  I have friends I am too tired to call, and despite my faith, church has become something I do if there is time left over.   I am drained and empty, having giving everything to everyone else during the course of the day, and as I fall into bed I count the scarcity of the hours until the alarm goes off.  I could get a bit more sleep if I skipped my morning run, but in the complete darkness running with Ellie before work, I can believe there is a me in there somewhere.  

Christmas has always been an emotionally chaotic time for me, sometimes high and sometimes low.  I didn’t embrace the season and it’s celebrations until I was well into adulthood and it took several decades of seeking my own meaning and celebrations to find joy and peace in it. It was a hard fought battle to let go of what my Christmas had been as a child and intentionally make a decision to live it with a different meaning.  This was most challenging when my dad died nine days before Christmas in 2005, but I held onto the meaning of the season, the connection, the love that people share a bit more openly this time of the year.                            

Except this year, I couldn’t seem to find it. This year I was so overwhelmed with the changes in my life, the uncertainty and the fight that I felt numb and empty. Along with those painful feelings I retained just enough awareness to be angry that I couldn’t quite get there even though I wanted to.  I sometimes remind myself that even Mother Teresa questioned her faith at times, and  it comforts me on a rational level, but it does not quiet the emotional hurricane that sweeps through me in times of struggle.

I wanted the time and the emotional energy to bake cookies, decorate my house, to find gifts for loved ones that are personal and meaningful.  I wanted to live and feel the grace that I believe should go hand and hand. Christmas Eve morning despite everything I still needed to do, there was no question about whether I was going for a run.  The two things I was looking forward to most were church with my family and my run. Grabbing my shoes and the leash, I headed out, figuring I would grab a short run to clear my head and burn off some energy.  My life is so loud, and so fast, and because of that  I seek and long for the quiet and the still.  With a fresh snowfall and most people skipping the holiday workout, I could hear my heart pounding as I ran the trails through mile after mile of woods.                                                                                                                         
Two and a half hours later I reluctantly headed down the trail that would take me home and feeling more peaceful than I had in weeks.  I was tired and sore. Ellie, with her tongue hanging was as tired as I was but we were both content.  Physically exhausted and emotionally recharged I forced myself to head home, feeling that something had changed.  I felt nourished and happy, smiling as I looked at Ellie by my side.  It took several hours in the woods roaming through trails, enjoying the beauty of the fresh snow on the trees, my dog by my side, and the absolute quiet of nature but I started to have hope for the day. It was in the absolute quiet that I began to hear my thoughts more clearly and the chatter which circles through my head endlessly began to slow.  I was breathing deeper, my jaw had relaxed and the urgency of my worries was a few degrees less.  The peace of the moment was mine to cherish and I felt guilty in my urge to savor it just a bit longer.

Later that day sitting in church and looking at my mom who looks so much like my grandmother, I cherished the moment.  I am not the same one, the woman from last year is gone forever but in her place is another with a few new layers.  The experiences of this year have left some marks, built strength and challenged my balance.  Of course I know Christmas didn’t let me go, and I didn’t let it go intentionally.  Life doesn’t have to be easy to be good, and Christmas Eve morning playing on the trails reminded me of that.  I lose sight of my own simplicity in the complexity of others around me and the momentum of the world.  I lose sight of the progress I have made and the reality of all I can be grateful for.  The freedom of knowing I am just me and I can only live today settled within me and with a quiet thank you I spent the next two two days celebrating love with my family and my faith.  I enjoyed moments with loved ones that have not happened in a while and built memories that will last a lifetime. The worries of the coming year, the doubts and the fears seem a bit more manageable and I spent the holiday with the single priority of experiencing the meaning and the connection.   I didn’t solve the problems of the world, I didn’t even figure out next week, but for today I am reminded of my purpose and focus, my thoughts a little quieter and my faith a little closer.  The moments I spent running the trails, the time with family members I don’t see nearly often enough, those enduring moments are woven in my  purpose as well as a reminder that I am not in charge of how many days I get.