"I hate Christmas. I wish I could skip over to the end of January and be done with it. I don't put up decorations and I refuse to listen to the music. It's just too hard to face without my child." My friend's words took me back to Christmas, 1993. Our first Christmas without our son, Mark. Oh, the anguish.

Before that awful year, I loved Christmas. I looked forward to after Christmas sales and started thinking about the best gift for each child months before the event. I baked more cookies than anyone could eat and we always had a big Christmas Eve Open House before the Communion service. The more people, the better. And those were the days I wouldn't let anyone bring anything - this was my thank you to all of our friends and family. We always invited hurting people, too. Of course, I drove my children and husband a little nutty but that's a confession for another time.

On July 6, 1993, that horrible night on our way home from the hospital, Chuck grabbed my hand and whispered, "Christmas, what will do about Christmas?" The reality of life without Mark was already slamming into our hearts. We knew that this most precious season of the year would never hold the same anticipation or joy of previous family gatherings. There would always be an empty seat. How, how, how would we face that empty place?

A few days ago, I played Christmas music while I cleaned. One of my tricks to easing into the holidays. As I dusted I heard the haunting rendition of The Little Drummer Boy. Mark was a drummer and this song is now his song. That first Christmas without him I imagined his first Christmas in heaven, playing his drums for Jesus. I look for a different drummer boy Christmas decoration every year. Hmm, I thought as the music played, I can hear this song without tears. I must be getting a little better. I thought once more of Mark in heaven, and wondered what he is doing right now. I imagined all of heaven preparing for Christmas! What must it be like to worship perfectly? To have no selfish motives in offering our gifts and talents to our King. I imagined our son welcoming friends we've "lost" this past year and connecting with the children of bereaved parents who have reached out to us in their fresh sorrow. What must it be like? Are they laughing with joy that their parents are choosing to trust God in their sorrow? Are they part of that great cloud of witnesses, cheering us on, urging us to faith, to reflect the joy of knowing Christ, even in the darkness?

Yes, my friend's sad, angry words were my words for many years. And I admit, there are moments that I still dread Christmas. I've never recaptured that fun anticipation. Some days I want to run away to a warm place and pretend Christmas is over. But then I remember those early years and how Christmas forced me to meditate on that first Holy Night. How my heart resonated with the heart of Mary's, the mother of Jesus. And how a light of understanding slowly glowed brighter and brighter as I began to reflect on God's gift of His Son for sinners like me. Of all the ways God could choose to demonstrate His love for us, He chose the parent/child relationship. What tighter, more intimate connection is there between a parent and child (when that parent loves as God designed)? What greater ripping is there for a human being than to have their child forcefully taken from their arms? Studies have shown that the worst crisis human beings can experience is the sudden loss of their children. It is no mistake that God keys in on this truth when He sacrifices His Son for His adopted children.

When I question God's love for me and how He could put me on this pathway, Christmas reminds me that the One Who gave me Jesus sent this dark place my way. I do not understand why, but I do understand He gave what I would never willingly give. He gave His Son to people who didn't want Him. What greater love is there?

And so, I miss Mark. And after my moments of rejoicing that I could hear The Little Drummer Boy without crying, the tears starting flowing. Oh, how I miss my child. Many of my sweet friends are experiencing deep, deep grief this season. And so this is for you, my dear friends. You are so fresh in your sorrow - even those of you who are seven years into the journey. I know this because I've been in that place.

Your heart will always long for your child. A piece of you will never be satisfied without him or her. But hear me on this. That's a good thing. Let that broken place drive you to the manger and carry you to the Cross. Get inside the Father's heart as you look at that little boy, our brother, Jesus, sent to die for the sins of His brothers and sisters.

Do not apologize for your tears but also give yourself permission to experience moments of joy. Look for the treasures that He will send your way, open your hands to receive the gifts He has designed to help turn your heart toward Him, to remind you that He is the Lord your God, the One Who calls you by name.

I am a credible witness of His faithfulness. God is sovereign and you can trust Him. I'm praying for you to experience Christmas Presence this year. His presence.

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In His Grip,
Sharon

For more on Sharon's Christmas thoughts, order Treasures in Darkness: A Grieving Mother Shares Her Heart.