The gifts were wrapped, cookies baked and car packed, but I was struggling with the deviled eggs. The stubborn shells refused to release the hard-boiled eggs from their protective wrapping without a fight and I was getting frustrated.
This is not my job, I thought. Dad always brought deviled eggs to my house for special events. And Grandpa Coy always made them for Christmas Eve at his house. So now the baton has passed to me. I used Dad’s recipe and completed my task, but my heart was heavy.
With everyone ready to leave for Christmas Eve at my Mom’s house (our new tradition)—I needed to put on the brakes. I needed time to grieve. In the last six years we have lost seven family members aged 14-months to 90 years old. Christmas makes me acutely aware of their absences.
I gave myself permission to grieve and spent time alone with God in prayer. Christmas will never be the same! I poured out my heart to Him in my prayer journal.
Then I placed the deviled-eggs on Grandpa’s glass tray and headed out the door—to celebrate the birth of my Savior with my family, those precious people who have walked this hard road with me. And together we are forging a new road, with new traditions.
If you are missing someone this Christmas (or several some ones) I hope you will carve out a little space to let yourself grieve. And let God refresh you so that you can rejoice in all He brought to us that day so many years ago when He stepped into time to give us eternity.