I originally wrote this on Christmas Eve last year. I didn’t want to “publish” it at the time, but I’m in a much better place than I was then. The darkness was so heavy; I suppose it was a despair about my life’s circumstances. Circumstantially, my life is relatively similar. As I type this my house is empty, and I am contentedly enjoying the silence with the clock ticking in the background. My desires remain the same, but I have peace because I’m better able to trust what Christ has for my life right now; He loves me more than I realized (or can realize), and He is with me. He is Immanuel, and it’s not just a Christmas thing. I still have my moments, but they are moments, not the undercurrent of my life.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5, ESV).
In my mind I keep referring to this Christmas as The Dark Christmas. For last Christmas (2014) I was newly separated with a divorce in progress. It was the first time I wouldn’t have my daughter with me for every aspect of the holidays, which left an empty void in me when she was with her dad. The overwhelming feeling I had was, “I just want to move on with my life” because the events leading up to my separation were excruciating and crazy enough. I guess last Christmas I was still in a state of limbo, not knowing what to expect.
But this Christmas is different. I know what it is to have shared time with my daughter—it’s a heart-breaking process. This time I feel like I know what my life is (as much as a person can fathom her life in a moment), and this time it feels empty. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade my dark emptiness for my old life of co-dependency, of not facing the grim reality that my marriage was built on lies. But the hope of what I desired then is still there: a family (a husband who loves Jesus, loves me and my daughter, and who demonstrates godly fatherhood to my daughter); this is not to discount the love I know my ex-husband has for our daughter. This hope for what I desire and don’t have creates an emptiness and a heavy darkness in my heart; that situation I want is silently, yet loudly, not there.
I’m thankful for that verse I started with (John 1:5). Even though this Christmas feels like the Dark Christmas, I am encouraged that the darkness I feel inside of me cannot overcome the light, the hope I have in Christ.
Last year I believed the hope, but this year I also feel it.