I was five or six years old, and it was Christmas Eve. At first I hadn’t seen it, but then Mom pointed again and squealed with delight, and I was sure I saw it! Santa’s sleigh and his reindeer had flashed across the night sky for a split second just as we were leaving my grandma’s house, and if it weren’t for my mom, I would have missed it! To this day I am almost definitely positive that I saw it, and the magic of that moment is something I will never forget.
     
        To say that Mom loved Christmas would be an understatement. She took full advantage of the Christmas season. The decorations came out the day after Thanksgiving, and they didn’t get put away until after New Year’s Day. She loved singing carols, sending cards, and creating an atmosphere that felt magical. In the living room, our wall-mounted record player filled our house with classic carols sung by Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra. Every year, my siblings and I drew names to buy gifts for one another, and she took each of us out individually to buy our presents. Many years, we’d end our shopping trip with dessert at the Sugar Bowl on Main Street.
       
            Mom loved to bake Christmas cookies so much that we kept an extra freezer in the garage just for storing them. We started early and baked cut-out sugar cookies, thumb-print cookies with jam, and heavenly hash, a fudge-like candy with marshmallows and peanuts. Then we plated up the goodies and delivered them to our neighbors and friends. Mom loved doing this, and our neighbors looked forward to their cookie plates every year.
       
           Money was tight in our family, but Mom and Dad always made Christmas special. Throughout the year we made weekly visits to the drive-thru at the bank, but I don’t remember ever questioning what Mom was doing when she’d put some bills in the container, send it through the tubes back to the teller, and say, “ten dollars to my Christmas Club, please.” All I really cared about was getting my sucker, finishing the candy, and then unrolling the looped paper stick to reveal a prize: a crinkled, square piece of paper. It wasn’t until years later that I realized what she was doing. Throughout the year she was saving up little by little, ten dollars a week, so she could buy presents and stocking stuffers and bake and give cookies to all our neighbors and friends. Christmas was her favorite time of the year, and she started planning for it eleven months in advance.

           So it’s no surprise that now everything about Christmas seems immensely wrong. Memories of our loved ones have a way of attaching themselves to music, movies, smells, foods, and traditions. The Christmas carols and the baking and the shopping and the wrapping— all of it reminds me of my loss. At times I feel bombarded by the sights and sounds of Christmas, and intense sadness overwhelms me.

         The first couple of holiday seasons after Mom is gone are all about paying attention to my energy level, my emotions, and my heart. I don’t send out Christmas cards to everyone the first year; instead, I send a handful of cards to the people who have walked with me on this grief journey and to a few of Mom’s friends. We make very few Christmas cookies, just enough for our family and so the girls can continue our tradition. I set aside time to be alone and grieve. It’s too painful to look at photographs, so I don’t. Brenna even asks me to take down Mom’s picture from a collage on our family room wall, so I do. I know that one day I will put it back, but it will take some time. Brenna colors a picture of Mom’s dog, Daisy, and we put her art work in the frame instead.

      That first year, we don’t attend many social events or parties. We spend a lot of time at home watching movies. I do most of my shopping online. We hang a stocking on the mantel for Mom, and whenever we feel sad or remember the previous Christmas when we were all together, we write little notes and tuck them into the stocking. We talk in advance about what Christmas Eve and Christmas Day will look like. We decide to keep our Christmas Eve tradition of going to church and then having a fondue dinner at home, but we decide to do something different on Christmas Day. After opening gifts and having breakfast, we’ll go to see a movie. Going out on Christmas will probably feel strange, but I think it is exactly what we need. We need the familiarity of some traditions, but we also need to start some new and different ones.

         We talk about Mom and tell stories. And for me, I find hope in the true meaning of Christmas. The previous year, after Mom was first diagnosed, a verse from the song “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” became my prayer for her.

O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

        God had made Mom’s way home safe. And the truth of Christmas is that Jesus opened wide our heavenly home. I find hope in Emmanuel, God with us.

One morning in mid December, I wake up to intense grief. I don’t want to get out of bed. I know the sadness needs attention, needs to be expressed, so I decide to do what I normally do when I need to have a good cry. Music has always been a powerful vehicle for expressing my emotions. Honest, well-written lyrics help me connect with my experiences and feelings in a way nothing else can, so I grab my earbuds and pull up the song “10,000 Reasons” on my phone. Every time I hear that song, it takes me back to that day in the hospital when Kari and I sang it with Mom. It makes me feel close to her.

          This morning, however, I have some new thoughts. What if you open the blinds and let some light in? What if you make your bed, clean up your room, and sit in the chair instead of lying in bed? What if you make yourself a cup of tea and read a couple of Scriptures from your grief workshop handout? The ideas are all about moving forward and progressing in my grief. When I open the blinds it is snowing—our first snow for Christmas. I would have missed it. I drink my tea, listen to the song, and immediately the tears flow.

The sun comes up, it’s a new day dawning
It’s time to sing Your song again
Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me
Let me be singing when the evening comes
Bless the Lord, O my soul
O my soul, worship His holy name
Sing like never before, O my soul
I worship Your holy name
—Matt Redman, “10,000 Reasons”

          This song connects me with my Mom in a powerful way, but instead of only revisiting that night on her hospital bed, my new way of grieving brings me into the present moment. I imagine Mom saying, “Yes, you can miss me and grieve—the love we have is so strong. But live today, Becky. Sing your song today.”

         Each and every day, we can choose to bless the Giver of life, the One who puts breath in our lungs and a song in our hearts. 

Reprinted with permission from Cancer, Faith, and Unexpected Joy, by Becky Baudouin, Kregel Publications, 2017.

​Order your copy here.

Sometimes people say they are thankful for the terrible things that have happened to them. Usually the idea is that the horrible things that occurred shaped them in some ways, altered the course of their lives, and made them into the people they are. Good came from the tragedy, and so the cursed problem at some point was transformed into the best thing that could have happened to them.

I admire the positivity. I understand how our experiences, both good and bad, have shaped us into the people we are today. And as a Christian, I do believe that God is working all things together for our good. When we look back on things that have happened, oftentimes we can see how things worked out and fit together. Time gives us a big-picture perspective; sometimes we reach a level of peace and acceptance so profound that even if it were possible, we wouldn’t go back and change what happened.

But can I be honest and say I’m still not at the point of being thankful that my parents got divorced or that Uncle Art died suddenly while visiting our family years ago? I still can’t bring myself to say I am thankful that my husband has multiple sclerosis or that I stuttered my way through childhood. And most recently, I am not thankful that my mom has cancer.

This honest confession does not mean that I am bitter or that I am not moving toward a place of acceptance. I believe in God’s inherent goodness. I strive to fully embrace the reality of my life, and I am most certainly shaped and influenced by all these situations. But thankful for them? Am I thankful that they happened? My answer is still no.

Give thanks in all circumstances;
for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
1 Thessalonians 5:18

​God’s will is that we give thanks in everything—in the midst of the storm, in the middle of the trial. In any and every circumstance, in the process of whatever it is I am working through, in the place I am in right now, I can give thanks. I can give thanks for who God is and for the help he provides. This means I can be honest about my pain while giving thanks. It means I don’t have to fake my way through anything or pretend to be happy about my circumstances. I can be authentic right where I am, disappointed and thankful at the same time.

How is this possible? It might seem difficult, but giving thanks in all circumstances is not as hard as you might think. It’s rather easy actually, because the things we give thanks for can be totally random. And the more you practice giving thanks, the easier it becomes. Here is a list of ninety-nine things for which I am genuinely thankful:

1. strength for today
2. time with those I love
3. skilled doctors and nurses
4. laughter
5. tears
6. a place to lay my head when the day is done
7. hope for tomorrow
8. reliable transportation
9. texts from friends
10. Sudoku

   11.   phone calls
   12.   coffee
   13.   our church
   14.   peace in the midst of the storm
   15.   joy even in sorrow
   16.   the hope of heaven
   17.   my dog
   18.   my job
   19.   God’s ever-present help
    20.  caring friends
    21.  family
    22.  provision for today
    23.  fresh ingredients for preparing meals
    24.  a roof over my head
    25.  a day off
    26.  time to rest
    27.  that this hard day is almost over
    28.  the breathtaking sunset
    29.  a new day tomorrow
    30.  sunrise (I don’t often see it happen, but it always does)
    31.  new mercies every morning
    32.  good books
    33.  God’s word
    34.  music
    35.  chocolate cake
    36.  a leisurely walk
    37.  groups
    38.  a place to share my heart
    39.  Netflix
    40.  the snooze button on my alarm
    41.  fresh flowers on the table
    42.  medicine
    43.  hugs
    44.  a hand to hold
    45.  our furnace
    46.  our air conditioner
    47.  family dinners
    48.  my secure eternity
    49.  cards in the mail
    50.  good movies
    51.  popcorn
    52.  hot tea
    53.  a hot shower
    54.  warm coats and boots
    55.  moments of solitude
    56.  moments of connection
    57.  sleep
    58.  a listening ear
    59.  distractions
    60.  prayer
    61.  breath in my lungs
    62.  sight
    63.  sound
    64.  touch
    65.  taste
    66.  sisters
    67.  daughters
    68.  brothers
    69.  husband
    70.  Mom
    71.  Dad
    72.  soft blankets
    73.  groceries to carry in from the car
    74.  photographs
    75.  memories
    76.  love
    77.  forgiveness
    78.  healing
    79.  silence
    80.  indoor plumbing
    81.  health insurance
    82.  Mexican food
    83.  pasta
   84.  anything with white wine sauce
   85.  piano music filling our home
   86.  a fresh coat of paint
   87.  Google
   88.  ice water
   89.  hand cream
   90.  words
   91.  meals from friends
   92.  comfort
   93.  God’s steadfast love
   94.  salt and pepper
   95.  fresh herbs
   96.  a tidy house
   97.  light
   98.  a gathering of friends 
   99.  that I never walk alone 

You see, once you get started, it’s not all that hard to keep going. 
Gratitude opens our eyes to the many gifts God gives. He is always good, and when we recognize his goodness, when we lift up our souls to him and give him praise, even in the most difficult circumstances, we are helped and he is glorified. 

​Reprinted with permission from Cancer, Faith, and Unexpected Joy 
by Becky Baudouin, Kregel Publications, 2017.

​Order your copy of Becky's book here.