Darkness and Light
So, I need to confess something: I put my Christmas decorations up without fully cleaning my house first.
Truthfully, I do this most years. I know, I know. There are some of you who will judge me for that. But I imagine there are others of you who share this secret with me.
I wish I was the kind of housekeeper that my Mawmaw was. Her house was always so clean that I would feel 100% safe eating off of any surface, including her floor. The few Christmas decorations that I remember her using were always classy and immaculate - and so was everything around it. My decorations are beautiful, but if you look closely enough, you will see dust nearby.
Less than perfect housekeeping aside, the dust and the Christmas sparkles together say something to me. They reveal something of the imperfections of this season. We put on a really good show this time of year. We decorate our house and yard. We look for meaningful gifts. We cook and prepare meals and treats. We do all the things in the name of a perfectly joyous Christmas season.
But the harder truth is what we cover up. In the twinkling lights and merry-making, we fail to admit our painful places. Like the dust around my decorations, there is pain behind my picture-perfect Christmas.
The holiday season is hard for me, and I know I am not alone. It is hard for many - even more this year after the devastation and loss that 2020 has brought.
The first Christmas after being widowed, my pain was visceral and raw, and it was all I could feel. In each holiday season since our loss, there has been pain and sadness present among the celebrations. Even 4 Christmas seasons in, this time of year is still laced with pangs of regret and sadness and loss. But the pain doesn’t always hijack our story anymore.
Here is the thing - both joy and pain exist in this season. Loneliness, sadness, loss - they all hang out in the same places that lights are hung and carols are playing. Some of us cover it up better. Some years are less painful. But the pain is still there even if it only shows up in the dark hours of the night.
I think we do ourselves a disservice when we pretend that the holidays are only about joy and magic. The twinkly lights are just as beautiful in years when they are hung with tears in our eyes. Maybe they are most beautiful in those years. They are a reminder that hope creeps in even in the darkest times.
Dust and decorations exist together. Darkness and Light coexist in the same spaces. All of it is part of the human experience - the sadness and joy, the pain and the hope.
The thing is - we don’t have to pretend that life is perfect, that the jolly Christmas tree is the only part of the story. We can share our vulnerable places with one another. It is a risk. It feels scary as hell. But I am learning that the risk is worth it. We can only be truly seen when we share both the light and dark parts of ourselves.
I am learning to hope in the darkness. I am ready to risk sharing my painful places along with the happy ones. I am recognizing that tears and laughter can have equal value and beauty. I don’t have to be perfect or happy all the time or pretend that the sadness doesn’t exist.
Now, maybe you could remind me of this next time I forget.
