Christmas has always been my favorite. My parents crafted special moments and traditions that we still duplicate today. We don't decorate the tree unless we're listening to Thistlehair the Christmas Bear, pickles and cream cheese still make their appearance at dinner, and there's bound to be a present or two under the tree from George Strait or Toni Braxton.
But, the last few years, I've been a little less jolly. We lost two pregnancies during the holiday season, so that pain dulled the brightness of the season just a little. And, as I reflected on the year that had past, I couldn't get past the grief and loss and failures we had suffered. I was discouraged and sad and lost. But I also remained hopeful. There were dark days...and weeks...when I was unsure of where God was leading us, but I relied on advice from a good friend from my college days. When something awful happens, you can wallow, but you have a time limit. When the time is up, you move on. You pick up the pieces, you create a plan, and you move. There were days it was a victory just to get out of bed. When I wondered if the hell I was walking through was even worth it.
It was.
This Christmas is even more special this year. Beyond the joy of having a new baby is the joy of seeing the miracle that she is. Of holding a testament of God's faithfulness.
I'll be the first to tell you that I was not graceful in my journey. I got angry. I got sad. But He remained faithful.
Merry Christmas to you and yours. If your current journey is painful, please know you're in our prayers. Please, don't give up. Whatever it is...it's worth it.