The Holiday Season

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas!
At least, for Arizonans.  I mean, that basically means that the lighting is different, it's actually cold in the shade and moderately warm in the sun instead of scorching.  We've been in the 30ºF range these past few mornings, and only in the low 70s in the afternoons!
Brr.
The desert animals are burrowing underground.  Frozen rattlesnakes are found on the sidewalks. (That's a lie.)  The coyotes aren't as vocal, as they quietly huddle somewhere in the valley to keep warm.

Normally, this change of seasons would excite something in my heart.  Yay! Christmas! Joy! Breaks from school! Cookies and carols and Jesus and Joy!

But frankly, this time last year marked the end of a lot of things.  As the cold in the air makes me shiver, the memories cause me to shudder with the memory of pain, loss, and fear.  I would give anything to forget it all.

Last Thanksgiving, my mom and I hopped off the plane at the Tucson airport after a 6-hour flight from Philadelphia.  We picked up the car and arrived at an empty house, still thinking about my uncles and cousins after my aunt's funeral.  Trying to make the most of things, I stumbled to the kitchen the mess of boxes and packing tape. (we had picked up and flown across the country amidst a move).  Wearing my Aunt Claire's old jacket (which her loving husband, Uncle Franklin, had passed on to me; Aunt Claire passed away from cancer over a year before,) I prepared an impromptu Thanksgiving casserole for my mother and me, as she killed a scorpion on the living room floor. (You've got to love the desert.)

I thawed some frozen ground turkey, and mixed it with stovetop stuffing, craisins, and a bit of gravy.  I sprinkled cheese on top, cooked up some sweet potatoes, and we had ourselves a pretty darn good Thanksgiving dinner (er, lunch - we were on Mountain Time now, though we were still internally on Eastern Time.)

It was not a bad Thanksgiving, per se; but we could think only of our relatives who faced their loss.
At that time, I faced the loss of a long-term friendship, the end of a dating relationship in which I was lead on, lied to, and - in some sense - mistreated.  Then my bird died.  I felt that my losses were nothing in comparison with those which others faced; but still, it was a time in which I found little to be joyful about.

I've had my meltdown at these memories, and now I sit here, considering how to approach this holiday season.   As with everything, we move forward; and that is what I am striving to do.  Though the sorrow from my losses has been rekindled within me, I am determined to light a new fire of love and peace this Holiday season.

I've been thinking about the Israelites, and how they waited thousands of years for the Messiah; for them, Christmas was a new beginning.  It was a time of rejoicing - yet, it was the beginning of an end.  The Christ child would grow to be a man, then he would die; but with his death would come new life.  It was the beginning to the end of sin, suffering and death.  And that end was a new beginning to life, joy, and hope.

In a sense, my experiences last year marked an end.  They were an end to my childhood, an end to my naîvety.  I faced new responsibilities, and put an end to my old troubles.  However, just like the Israelites, I had been waiting.  I was waiting to be tested, waiting to grow, waiting to find hope, waiting to understand the world around me.

Perhaps we're always waiting; waiting for Christ, waiting for hope, waiting for the right time, waiting to grow old, waiting for experiences.  To keep my mind away from my troubles, I must remember that my grief is like the monotonous interim of the Israelites.  Life came into the world for them.

This Thanksgiving, though I will inevitably remember the loss, I am determined to remember the gain. There is always something to be Thankful for.  As I celebrate Christmas and remember the waiting of the Jews, I should know what a joy there is; for there is hope, and there is rejoicing.  Death has been conquered and life has come anew! A new beginning may be found with Christ; He will always help me to conquer the death and the sorrow and the darkness.  The joy of his birth, the joy of his resurrection, resonates in the songs of the angels.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new has come!" 
- 2 Corinthians 5:17