Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Don’t let your heart be troubled or fearful. (John 14:27, CSB)
For decades, I had every reason not to like this season, and I held on tightly to those reasons. August/September marked the beginning of a season of SADness, quite literally with Seasonal Affective Disorder that lasted well into the early spring. From there, it was easy to convince me I hated winter and, thus, Christmas, so I believed it. I was often reinforcing the statement either out loud or in my head.
Christmas time was marked by the lights that went up downtown. The seemingly dull city began to sparkle during the Christmas season. We spent a lot of time out there, asking passersby for spare change. A year-round occurrence, but people were much more generous during the holiday season. It never seemed so bad during the holiday, the lights on the trees offered me an escape, and sometimes people would even give presents instead of money, forcing my parents to let us keep the gift, unlike any cash received. I loved to pretend I was one of the people dressed in nice, fancy jackets coming out of the restaurants.
Though the events of the season would drastically change once in foster care, I’d still find myself withdrawn and sad. Christmas time became a reminder of what I didn’t have. The material things didn’t matter; it was always the family aspect for me. While I appreciated what my foster parents did for me, there was always a separation knowing they weren’t my birth parents, and I longed for my birth parents, particularly my mother.
I took it personally that I’d never received the one Christmas present I ever wanted (reunification). Instead, Christmas became a way of celebrating being kept by my foster parents; another year, they didn’t get rid of me; a fear I lived with until I was adopted and my placement was made permanent. There’s just something about belonging.
I never considered how much I longed to belong, somewhere, anywhere. Up until recently, I even spent considerable time molding myself in ways to fit in in places I never should’ve been. He did not realize that by doing this, I was aiding in the hardening of my heart, the deterioration of my soul, and a slow and (emotionally) painful demise. But even when I had no idea, God was working in my life and in my heart through things in my life that I now imagine were strategically placed.
Then I thought I could avoid my pain. As much as I wanted my family, I stayed away from them during the holidays. When I got into my first serious relationship, I spent the holidays with his family, and when I went away to school, I stayed there. It wasn’t until I worked in a school for individuals with disabilities that I began to change. Every year the staff would pick a student to buy a book for. Santa would then come and gift the wrapped book to the children. Though I wasn’t fond of Christmas, I was incredibly passionate about my students, and something about the excitement on their faces began to soften my heart. It was the light in their eyes and the excitement in their voice when Santa entered the building.
Eventually, that led me back to my own family, and one year unexpectedly, I sat with my mom and sister and reminisced over a song. This led to us going down memory lane, some good, some not so much, and in the end, we all cried hard. It was cathartic and a gift I never knew I needed. Though not the reunification I had hoped for as a child, it was reunification nonetheless. We started Christmas traditions that year, and they’ve evolved ever since.
As I look back on the years of work it took to get me to where I am today, I’m grateful and overcome with this beautiful feeling of peace. An unworldly peace that I know only comes from God. I can finally enjoy the season without feelings of hate, jealousy, or being triggered. Instead, I’m overcome by the beauty of freshly fallen snow as my favorite Christmas carols play. Though there are still tears, they are now tears of pure joy. As weird as it is to say, I look forward to Christmas every year. My family’s excitement about wearing matching pajamas fills me in a way I can’t explain. Sitting with my favorite people, eating delicious food, and laughing until we cry are what I love most about it. It’s still not about the material for me but rather about the moments cherished together.