Hope deferred makes the heart sick

 

    This is a picture from Christmas last year.  I can count on one had the number of times it has snowed on Christmas in my life.  Yes, the grass is green, and the snow that came down was sloppy and wet and didn't stick much, but it snowed.  From the time I was a little kid, Christmas has been equated with snow, even though it almost never happens in the Pacific Northwest (at least on the West side of the mountains).  Every year I hope it will snow on Christmas, even if there isn't a snowball's chance in...  Well you get it.  If you asked me, I wouldn't admit it, because sharing my disappointment is so difficult for me.  I think it makes it more real.  If I don't tell you what I hoped for that didn't come about, maybe I can convince myself that I never actually hoped for it in the first place and I don't have to feel the disappointment.  

    This Christmas season has been a difficult one for me, and until recently, I wasn't even aware of why.  I haven't been able to get excited for Christmas this year.  I remember the first Christmas after I moved out on my own, I decorated our whole apartment on October 15th.  We had gone to the Disney Store at the mall (do they even have those anymore?) and bought THE ENTIRE Winnie the Pooh Christmas collection.  We're talking stockings, ornaments, decorations, dishes, even three foot tall audio animatronic figurines!  My husband had to work overtime for weeks to pay for it, but I was in Christmas heaven, so he said it was worth it.  Yep, I got a really good one.  This Christmas, however, it took a sheer force of will to do the little decorating I did, and even that was only because my daughter had flown home from Alaska to do it, and she was doing most of it.  If it hadn't been for her, I don't think we would have had a tree or anything.  

    So what's different about this year?  I kept trying to figure it out based solely on our Christmas plans, and those are definitely different this year so it made some sense.  This will be the first year that not all of my kids are home for Christmas.  I'm tearing up just typing that.  I knew this year would come from the moment I found out I was pregnant with my first child, but it's finally here.  My daughter will be working, flying the friendly skies, on Christmas and my oldest will be spending Christmas morning with his partner's family.  There's absolutely nothing wrong with this.  Like I said, I knew this year would come because it is a natural progression of life.  The year came when I wasn't at my Mom's on Christmas morning, so I knew it would come for me too.  Yes, I'll admit there was probably a secret part of me that wished that my kids would love our home and enjoy Christmas with me so much that they would make a point of doing it forever, but I knew, realistically, that that was not the case.  I'm sure my family believes that the sting of this is offset by the fact that we are all spending a week on vacation together right before Christmas, and there is some truth to that.  It is so rare these days that I have all my kids together at the same time that I am looking forward to this so much that it scares me.  I'm terrified that I want it so much that something will happen to ruin it.  It's like I'm fake excited about the trip.  I'm trying to make everyone else excited so that they'll be as invested as I am, though I'm sure that's not possible.  Maybe that's part of what's bringing me down too - anxiety about making this trip perfect.  The thing is, as much as it's not the case for many of my loved ones, celebrating something on it's actual day - like a birthday or Christmas - is VERY important to me.  Doing Mother's day the following weekend just isn't the same.  What is does is make that day awful, which taints whatever time we do get to actually celebrate together.  It sounds selfish and petty when I type it here, but it's my truth and I need to own it.  I've tried to adjust and be flexible, and I will continue to do so as I know the world doesn't revolve around me, but the truth is, it's just not the same.  Really, though, we aren't even going to be doing this for Christmas.  We're just not celebrating it as a whole family at all.  

   The thing is though, our Christmas plans are not the only thing different about this year.  My husband pointed out to me last night that this year has been really hard, and that's likely to affect my perspective on the end of the year holidays as well.  Change is inevitable, but it is not easy, especially the kinds of change I've been going through.  I've always been an independent, strong woman who did for others but never asked for help herself.  I've pushed through, pulled myself up by my boot straps, and soldiered on.  This year I hit a brick wall and realized that I can't keep that up.  Now there's a lot of truth to the idea that I shouldn't have been like that in the first place, but regardless, loosing my independence has fundamentally altered my understanding of who I am.  I don't know myself anymore.  I don't know what to expect or hope for for the future.  I don't know if I'm exaggerating or being a hypochondriac.  I just don't know.  Christmas is about hope, something I am greatly lacking in these days.  You'd think that would make it more appealing, but instead it feels like one more thing I have to fake.  I'm just not feeling the hope.  

Here's the thing:  The title of this post comes from a Bible verse, Proverbs 13:12, "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." My hope, ultimately, is in Christ and in His promised return where all things will be new and there will be no more sorrow or pain or death.  That just seems so far away that it's hard. It would be nice to have a little of that longing fulfilled stuff to tied me over!