Where, I wonder, is Christmas? Somehow it’s gone, though
it never really kicked in for me this year.The fact that I was late to catch
the holiday spirit isn’t particularly significant in itself because every year
I am a dervish in high-spin, trying to balance work and the responsibilities of
“making” Christmas for my family. But this year is different.This year Newtown happened.
Last Sunday after four days of self-imposed confinement Eric coerced me into joining the real world
for the second time since the slaughter of the lambs, first to go to the Medina Flea Market
and then Christmas shopping and to dinner at Macaroni Grill. I would be lying
if I didn’t admit that it perked me up some. But the other half of the truth is
this -- I didn’t stay perked for long and I am not perky now. There aren’t
enough sandbags in all of Connecticut to keep the anguish of Newtown inside its
borders. And that’s how it should be. It’s our job to feel the pain of the
parents, the terror of the children, the anguish of forever. It’s more than our
job actually. It’s our privilege, our gift, our hope for the world. I suppose it's true that sorrow cannot be measured on a scale, but the one thing I know for sure is that it’s a shared weight.
On our way out of town on Sunday afternoon a billboard
caught my eye. It was planted in the yard
of the Seventh Day Adventist Church on Rte 18 and on it were two stark words, white
against mournful black-- "Jesus wept." YES! Oh, yes. Yes.The word resonated,
reverberated, richoted throughout my being. Of course He did. God would weep. How could He not when such
an obscenity struck the most innocent and vulnerable amongst us? And yet ever
since Newtown, in the name of God, some have argued that what happened there was
retribution, the wrath of a God of mighty and fearsome vengeance. I know I
should dig deep and find some kind of forgiveness for that, but I think my forgiveness
bin is pretty much empty right now. It takes an incredible hardness of heart, a
pomposity, a shameful showmanship to argue that God would strike down babies
for the “sins of the fathers.” I don’t care if these self-proclaimed messengers
disagree with me on evolution, gay
marriage, or anything else. But don’t, please DON’T, tell me that God (whom I
do believe in, by the way) would ever
entertain such a revolting thought. To say so is blasphemy. Pure and simple.
For the record, I do know something about what it feels
like when Evil finds your child. We were lucky the day Evil came calling if
there is anything lucky about having your child abducted by a gunman. It happened
to one of our daughters when she was in college. Somehow, against all odds,
she broke free of him even though he forced her into her car in the blackness of
night and made her drive to an ATM while he held a gun to the back of her head.
By the time we knew it had happened it was over. But relief was short-lived
because Evil always leaves a calling card. Always. For us it was a heavy gunnysack marked with two words scary
enough to turn your hair as white as the deadly oleander. I suppose it could be argued
that we didn’t HAVE to unleash “What if”.
But of course we did – many times. We did it then. We did it later. And I did
it again after Newtown. But never, ever, not for one single second,
then or now, did we blame God for the acts of a madman.
Still, and all, Christmas eludes us this year. We decorated our tree, but
not in velvet splendor like last year. This tree is traditional, plain, festooned
with a paper star, a bread dough replica of our oldest daughter when she was little, two little photos of two little girls, a shiny green globe
held on by a diaper pin, a Hallmark ornament that says Baby’s First Christmas,
and a white plastic heart ornament bought for me by my oldest grandson at the Santa
Shop at school.
Will Christmas come this year? If so, when? How? Will it come in a rush
of noise and excitement when our house fills to the rafters with family? Or
will it come in the strains of a carol, or a sky full of stars? Will it come at all? I don’t know. I think it
will.
I hope.
8 comments:
THANK YOU for having words to express your feelings AND mine. Talking with you the other day was great as well. I find myself tearing up a lot these days but I appreciate being able to feel. Would this horrible act feel or be better if it was any other time of the year. I hope not.
As the parent of a child lost too early to death, my heart goes out to these parents. I do not understand the whys in any of it. As a Christian, I do not believe God caused this but I do believe He will take this evil and cause good to come from it. I don't know how it will happen and probably never will, but I have faith that it will. I know there were points after my daughter's death that I saw this. As a parent would I rather have my child here and sacrifice the other good, YOU BET! (is this selfish?) I ache for her always. I cry for these families because I have a good idea of what their lives will hold in the future because of these losses. Yes, Christmas will continue but not the same because we have all been touched by this. My Christmas changed drastically a few years ago and although I am able to smile now, I know it will never be the same for me. Please try to keep the true meaning of Christmas in your heart. Otherwise, this evil unleashed has won in so many ways beyond just this horrific act.
Oh, Hilda, I am so sorry for the loss of your child. In so many ways we are all brought together by the pain of what happened and that in itself is a good thing. We need shared sorrow as well as shared joy, so already there is something good happening. When we can find in the story of someone else our own story it's a small miracle. Thank you, thank you for posting this.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Cheryl. I enjoyed our talk the other day too. I really don't think it would be any less terrible if Christmas weren't part of it. Chirstmas adds a poignancy, maybe even a backdrop of pathos, but the horror would be the same. And , yes, it's good for us to feel it.
So sorry for your losses, and the near death of your daughter Tess. Violence and abuse are too close to all in this world. You shared this story so well, I understand your pain at Newtown. You relive you own pain. Yes, the chldren will truly bring Christmas with them this year, Tess. I believe this. My name is Virginia, and I have it on verifications from Santa himself! You are in my prayers, Gin
Yes, Virignia! There is a Santa Claus and a light in the forest too.Thank you for a kind and generous post. I am counting on the little ones to bring Christmas, but I'll have to wait until the Saturday after.
Oh Tess. So amazing and wonderful that your daughter survived that terrible experience. Yes, focus on hope. Hope is where it's at, and heals so much.
Thank you, Sarah. I love your blog and have been reading it for a long time. Thank you so much for the kind words. I feel a little better today, but it's so hard to watch it all. Hard to write about this too. But you are so right. It IS all about hope. And I do have some. So I think we'll make it to Christmas eventually.
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