Month: December 2022

I have a mental health therapist. I started with her in the thick of the pandemic when I thought I might lose my mind. Now we meet once or twice a month online, and I get the support that I need to stay healthy. I am so grateful .

I am telling you this because I want you to know that being in therapy is a good thing. It is not a sign of failure, a sign of weakness, or something to be ashamed to admit. In these tridemic days when grief is still raw and no end is in sight, when things are not “back to normal”, we all need extra support and a sympathetic ear.

It is critical to take care of yourself. Depression is serious. Anxiety is serious. I was a clinical social worker for 10 years and 90% of my clients were people who just needed some extra support, or maybe to look at things through new eyes. People who needed to know that what they were experiencing was real and painful, and that with a few adjustments things would probably get better. We need to be heard. Our pain needs to be acknowledged. We need help, and that is normal!

As a society, we have suffered tremendous loss, uncountable griefs. We have had the rug pulled out from under us, and have no idea what normal means anymore. We keep getting disappointed. It’s a lot. And it is happening to everyone at the same time. Everyone is uncertain and grasping and struggling to breathe. There can be no healing until we recognize our communal and personal damage.

What I pray is that you take care of yourself. That you get the help you need. Be careful of the ways you medicate your sorrows and frustrations. Be gentle with your neighbor, who is feeling the same way. Understand your impulse to take your pain out on others, and be careful. I see this happening a lot. Let’s be wise about this reality.

I hope you have 3 people to call when things get bad (put me on your list). I hope you have a plan to find joy. I hope you exercise and eat well. I hope you have a therapist. Let’s pray for each other and support each other to do what we need to heal from the trauma of the last two years.

When I exercise I watch TV, usually cooking competitions. Last week I had such a bizarre experience with the show I was watching. It was edited all wrong, in every shot. You saw half a person, or not the person talking, or the floor. I almost never saw a shot of the baked good being presented, or all of it.

It was surreal, and yet I couldn’t look away. You knew what was happening from the sound track but not from the visual. Again vaguely and sometimes completely disturbing, but so oddly compelling. When the show was finally over I was relieved! The next episode, things were back to normal. Thank goodness.

As I was processing the whole experience, I realized the holiday season is that way for me. Kind of surreal, not always focused on what matters, rarely showing the full and lovely picture. We are assaulted by advertising, worldly expectations and our own insecurities. What if I say I don’t want to exchange gifts because I have everything I need? What if I say I don’t want to drink alcohol because it is becoming a problem? What if I don’t have the same number of stocking stuffers for each child?

The list goes on, ready to disengage us from the joy and hope and awe of the
season. Don’t let it. Stand firm. Make sure Christmas is about the coming of your Savior, grounded in love. Practice adoration, wonder and the profound generosity of God becoming human. We have been given the greatest gift. Make sure you are enjoying the love sent to you.

Have a Merry and blessed Christmas!

I have made two decisions. First, I am making the writing of this blog one of my New Year’s resolutions. I have missed the weekly discipline and I am going to try to get back in the swing.

I have also decided to see secular Christmas music as a gateway drug. It has never been clear to me how wanting a hippopotamus for Christmas connects to Jesus. But maybe it doesn’t have to be clear to me. Maybe this is just one more thing that I have to let go of controlling and let God do what God does- use unlikely messengers.

When I was a kid, my parents used to sing in the car, and the frequency was even greater during the holidays. My Dad had a lovely tenor voice and my mother provided the alto harmony. They were really good. And thinking about them singing their rendition of Silver Bells still brings tears to my eyes. That is Christmas to me as much as anything else.

People find their way to the generosity of God’s love in a million unique ways, and my job as a believer is to support that. So if mommy kissing Santa Claus is a sign of God’s love for you, that brings me joy too. We as a culture, and me as a person, have gotten too critical and fussy. And if I am honest, I am dreaming of a white Christmas as much as you are.

Praying we can all bring the compassion and love of God back into Christmas!