Christmas just won't be the same this year without Mom.
I lost my job this year, and I just don't feel like celebrating.
The cancer is back.
My depression always seems worse around the holidays.
I've moved away from family and things just aren't the same.


We are mistaken when we think everyone is waiting with eager anticipation during Advent. Advent comes at the darkest time of the year, and I'm not just talking about the weather. Several years ago now, on the night before Christmas Eve, I was supposed to be at a rehearsal at church and instead I was in the emergency room with my mom. The nursing home called for the ambulance, and their next call was to me. I got there as quickly as I could. Mother's dementia was so advanced that she knew me only as the person who was always there. She'd not recognized me as her daughter for some time. She was in such pain either in her body or mind, or both, and she was crying out for her daddy. Where's my daddy, she pleaded with me. The emergency room was so crowded that I was frustrated with the speed of care. I've never felt so powerless. I prayed by her bedside for God to take her pain away. She didn't die that night as I might have expected; her death came less than a month later.

The next night I had to officiate and preach Christmas Eve worship at my church. It was tough. And the next year without Mother was no easier. That memory has not faded much over the years. I woke up this morning remembering.

I find enormous comfort within a church community, and worship centers me in a way that nothing else can. But I know that coming to worship is hard when you are grieving or sick or depressed or longing for Christmas as it was once and is no longer. One has the sense that everyone else is happy -- as a pastor, I can assure you they are not.

Tomorrow evening we will worship together as a small community in a quiet, reflective service. Click on this link for more information: http://discipleschristian.org/content/home/a_service_of_memories

It will be an opportunity to recognize our pain as well as our joy, to light a candle in memory of someone or something, to receive communion and a touch of oil that is a symbol of God's healing power and grace. It seems on Sunday morning that we are asking for prayers for others -- this evening is about asking for prayers for ourselves. That's OK with God; in truth, God wants this for us. The Great Commandment tells us to love God, to love our neighbor, and to love ourselves.

Blessings for this day and whatever emotions it brings -

Pastor Kris