I’m starting to decorate my home for Christmas amid the tragedies of COVID-19. It seems right to show the world that there is still hope, light, peace, and love, even while there is so much hurt in so many families. Maybe I’m sentimental, but I remember as a young teenager the caring and unconditional love shown to my struggling family after the loss of my mother.
Our first Christmas after she passed left our home feeling so empty and sad. There were no cookies baked, no hard candies jarred, no carols sung, no candles in the windows, and not a pine tree but a silver tree covered with red ornaments. The male members of my father’s congregation decorated the outside of the parsonage, and the women of the church laid a large amount of gifts in all sizes and shapes around a huge, decorated pine tree inside our home. They secreted the “silver thing” away in a closet. That Christmas Eve, two friends and I sang “O Holy Night” for the service, bringing tears to everyone in the church. My mother’s voice was heard in the voices of three teenagers trying to come to grips with their friend’s loss. All of these wonderful people wanted my family to know that we were loved and tried to fill the void left by the loss of a truly Christian woman, wife, and mother.
After reading a true story about a family that lost their husband and father shortly before Christmas and how complete strangers tried to help the family during the holidays with a loving rendition of “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” I suddenly realized that my family had also benefited from such a kindness after my husband’s diagnosis of esophageal cancer nearly eight years ago at Christmas. We, too, did not know what the future held, and our Christmas looked to be very sad. Our neighbors left anonymous gifts on our door step for everyone of the twelve days. Our grandson, who was visiting us before he began boot camp in the army, helped us put up our first seven-foot pine Christmas tree and that helped brighten the inside of our home. We were very blessed to have our daughter, Misty, spend the holidays with us. The sharing of the darkness kept our spirits up even though we both knew Mike’s prognosis was dire.
The book that I finished last night, “The 13th Gift,” really emphasized that we can have a loving Christmas despite family losses and lingering doubts of the “what-if’s.” Our lives can be blessed with hope, light, peace, and love if we keep room in our hearts for the Christ child and the loving deeds of complete strangers and neighbors. Emmanuel is with us, and we need to let our lights shine before all men because it is in our collective lights that peace and love can emerge victorious from emptiness, sadness, and the harsh realities of the world. 2020 has been an incredibly hard year for all of us, one that even our children will not long forget. In the anguish of COVID-19, I hear the still soft voice of Jesus Christ saying, “Come unto me all ye who are heavy laden and I will give you rest,” and yes, He is the light of the world. May we open our hearts to the possibility of a better life and in so doing, create a more loving, peaceful world, one where all are our brothers and sisters.
Anna Hartt
