Sorrow at Christmas

Many members of my family through the years, have died at Christmas time. The most difficult it seemed was my younger sister Trish. A normal time of getting ready for church the day after Christmas in 1965 was turned into a nightmare by her totally unexpected brain hemorrhage. Stunned beyond belief, our brightest and best torn from us, we struggled through the holiday season each following year. Then there were others.
Last year at time a bit earlier than this, my mom lay dying of cancer. Hospice had been started, and we were leaving for Tennessee soon. As I sat in our quiet living room one Sunday before walking over to church, I pondered all of this. "She will die at Christmas time", I thought, "here we go again- where is God’s love?" Out of the quiet came a rush of love and understanding, a "light bulb" if you will, but in our family we call it a "Wa-La !" This was not the worst time of year for this to happen, it was the best. I had obviously not understood. It was the time of year when love and caring abound, when families really try and get along, when we are aware of and take action on a stranger’s need, when we share our traditions of love. It is also a time, I believe, when the door to heaven is open a crack and love flows more freely back and forth. It was the best time for sorrow because love of family, friends, community and heaven surrounded us. Later I shared my "wa-la" with my remaining sister, brother and sister-in-law over the phone. "Oh I get it !", "silence", and " Hmm.." were the responses I got, and I learned again that understanding comes to each in our own time.
Off to Tennessee we went. I was totally unprepared for my mother’s suffering. I climbed into her bed and held her "I can’t believe this" I said, "Me either" she said. "Mom I’ve had a wa-la" I said with all the courage I could muster. "Let’s hear it" she said. I told her and watched understanding and relief dance across her features. Mom died Christmas Eve day. Late, late that evening my brave sister-in-law got up in the night and wrapped the packages for her young children. Christmas morning found my dad with little ones playing at his feet in piles of wrapping paper, and love all round, knowing that mom did not hurt any more. As this Christmas approaches I have learned to wrap myself in that love, and do my best to wrap others.