Usually I just brush it off and leave nothing to be thought of later, but I guess within these quiet halls and not venturing to the outside, I have more time to delve into my thinking. So I thought.
Often joy and hope are automatically associated with Christmas, and as I took a look back into my past here is what I have found:
Junior year in high school, I spent the months of September, October, November, December at the bedside of my Grandfather in the hospital, saying goodbye to him on January 6.
Fast forward to last year, I received a phone call from my mother telling me things were not well with my dad, so the holidays were spent praying for his healing, and for God to provide strength for him to come out from underneath serious depression, praying that we didn't lose him. Christmas Eve and Night were spent in tears, because I could do nothing but go to God with my hurt and my fears.
And here we are today...Christmas Eve...presents remained unopened for quite some time, while tears were spent gracing my cheeks with the company of darkness, as I felt that everything was falling apart.
I say this not to portray a sense of ungratefulness, or to beg for pity. Not by any means, I guess I write this because for so long I had no idea why I didn't look upon the Holidays as most. I guess there is a part of me that finds to take hurt and such pain easier on the average day, more so than during Christmas, I fall into the habit of most, expecting the Holidays to bring nothing but joy, though mine haven't been foreign of pain.
I am holding onto Him. I know He will bring us through. He has proven such time and again...
In Him, I find my peace.