Months bring their moods. They arrive in a hurry and depart even faster. But they bring tradition, memories, stories, experiences.
December always does.
In my younger years, the twelfth month brought her weather and her holidays. Christmas easily became my family’s favorite time of the year.
I aged. Time speeded up. Death came in December. But more joy came, as my family grew and my stories continued fitting the songs of the season. Jesus was born, we were reminded year after year, song after song, sermon after sermon. Gifts wrapped and unwrapped. Meals prepared and enjoyed. Games played or watched.
I’ve continued aging. At 64, my decades of Decembers have included sadness in the season. Much celebration, many gifts, great gatherings, wonderful memories. But also grief. Of deaths and disappointments bombarding the holidays. Not just news from the media. Sad stories about my friends and my family and myself. The last few Christmas seasons included unexpected grief and stress. As I’m reflecting on those recent final-month-of-the-year experiences, I am reminded: December can be difficult.
But the sadness of the seasons doesn’t sit alone. It gathers beside songs of joy. It dwells among the promises fulfilled, hopes found. It Iingers near readings about a long awaited Messiah finally arriving, about peace, about a manger and shepherds and angels, about Mary, about us, about gifts and smiles and healing.
They abide together. The bad news and sad news mingle with the greatest news of all time.
Will we hear? Will we see?
Even here, hurrying through another difficult December, will we?
I hope we will.
I pray we will.
