Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas!

We hear these words and say them to others, but for some the holidays are anything but. This time of year can be difficult and painful, even dark. Christmas can be a time when loved ones are more noticeably absent, serious or chronic health issues try to overshadow hope, broken relationships are more apparent, and financial strains are juxtaposed with this season of giving. Tidings of comfort and joy…how can we deliver more than words? How can we graciously receive from those who appear to be living a Hallmark Card Christmas?

I have always loved Christmas—everything about it. Part of what drew me to my husband when we met was his shared enthusiasm for the season. We have an embarrassing collection of Christmas music and start listening right after Thanksgiving in order to hear it all. Christmases 2016-2019 were rough, however. The cycle of my cancer recurrences seemed to hit right at the holidays.  Christmas 2019 was particularly difficult. I had received clean scans in late October, but by mid-November, a tumor had developed so large I could actually see it. I was still in treatment. I forced myself to reach for Christmas joy, but I was just going through the motions as PET scans and surgery loomed.

We typically choose a few Christmas concerts or events to attend, so when I saw that Christian contemporary artists Natalie Grant and Danny Gokey were wrapping up their Christmas tour in the Northwest, I didn’t waste any time trying to get tickets.  This would be just the thing to get us in the Christmas spirit, to find our Christmas joy. The final concert would be at Natalie’s home church in Washington, but tickets were already sold out. We decided to purchase tickets for the next-to- last stop in Portland. It would be a fun little get away. And just after hitting “buy now” I realized we already had a commitment for that evening. There was no way we could make it. I was so disappointed. I e-mailed our church and school staff about what had happened and offered up the tickets we couldn’t use, free to the first one to respond. I put it out of my mind and continued to pursue hope and peace, trying my best not to let dread and depression take over.

Then, in one of our darkest moments, I received a text from my Senior Pastor and his wife. They had secured tickets for us to the final night performance. I was so overwhelmed with gratitude in that moment. Just like that, a light broke through the darkness. He had apparently read the e-mail. On staff myself, I work closely with him on the leadership team, so he was aware of the recurrence. He had spent the early years of his career at the church where the final Christmas concert would be held and stays connected to the staff there. When we arrived at the venue, we discovered that these were not just “get you in the door tickets.” They were front and center, immediately behind an entire row of Natalie Grant’s family. It was not lost on us that the people we were seated beside were close friends of our pastor, still on staff there, and had two children sitting on their laps…children old enough to have their own seats. It still brings tears to my eyes. I think we both cried through most of the performance.  No matter what was before us, in that moment we knew we were seen, we were loved. Blessed.

The most precious gifts are the ones that are personal. The ones that require the giver to see from the recipient’s perspective. Sometimes these are tangible gifts, and sometimes these are acts of service. Helping in a way that takes time, maybe away from our families or holiday fun. Gifts that take thought and effort.  Having been both a giver and recipient during times of crisis and despair, I address both.

To the giver:

It is human nature to give in the manner we wish to receive. Think about some of the weirdest Christmas gifts you ever got (unintentionally weird). Chances are, the giver would have loved to receive that gift, so it is not strange to them at all. I am not criticizing, and I acknowledge that I have imparted my own preferences on people in their time of need. I have given people space because that is what I would want. But in hindsight, I realize I should have pushed in. And what seemed like support and love to me, probably felt like neglect to those who needed me. Not coincidentally, on the day I began writing this post, I felt prompted to call a dear friend of mine across the country. It goes to voicemail. She sends a text message a little later. She was in the middle of receiving unwelcome news about her own health journey. I tell her I know she is even more private than I am, but I am available if she wants to talk. She responds, “I love you.” And I know that she doesn’t want to talk, not now anyway, and I respect that boundary. I offer a prayer for continued hope and miraculous healing. And, for this friend, even if she says don’t come, I will know when I should go.

About an hour later a local friend calls and tells me about the troubles of a mutual friend who has recently relocated to another state. She says she is fighting the urge to get on a plane and be with her. But the distant friend asked her not to come. She said what she really needs is something that seems small and insignificant to my local friend—a simple, daily phone call to talk about nothing.  Since she paused and listened, she is better able to respond in the way best for her friend, not in the way that felt most like helping to her.

So, to the giver, know your recipient, respect boundaries. Perhaps you are thinking to yourself, “shouldn’t the recipient just be grateful?” Yes, probably. However, I assure you, when you are in the middle of crisis, you are numb, and it can seem impossible to find an ounce of gratitude for anything.

To the recipient:

This is a hard one. I have come to learn that the one in need has a responsibility, too. There have been times on my cancer journey that it had to be all about me in order to survive the mental and emotional challenges. But there were also times when I had to let others help me on this journey in their own way, even when it wasn’t very helpful for me.  If you are out of the immediate crisis, try to be gracious, allow others to help you.

As I write this, I am experiencing a very lovely holiday season, one that feels “normal.” I realize that there are some in my life who are lonely. Some who need more of my time. I treasure time alone, but there is a difference in being alone and being lonely. I must take my own advice and give selflessly. It will come with a price…less “me” time so that I can give as I have been given.

I hope by sharing my journey, you will be inspired. I am grateful for the Holy One who laid down His privilege of being the Son of God to dwell among us as a human. To experience what it is like to be us, to show us how to treat others. He doesn’t have to guess whether to push in or wait until we call. He knows what we need when we don’t even know it ourselves. And He is always working on our behalf. Even when it doesn’t feel like it.

We are all on this journey together. No one passes through this life unscathed, so let’s ponder how we might meet someone’s needs—not out of our need to help them, but out of a desire to meet them where they are. To shine light in their darkness.

I close in prayer for all who are reading and those you are called to help. May you experience peace that passes understanding this Christmas; may you share and receive joy. Merry Christmas!

Until next time, I am Living Between the Scans.