A Very Mom Christmas

This year is an odd Christmas for me. I have done several things I’ve never done before and now I’m thinking outside the box trying to find others. I just might eat pizza for breakfast, but on the other hand, I’ve done that before so that would pretty much disqualify that idea.

My first thought when I woke up this morning was, “Happy Birthday, Jesus!” I don’t write this to sound super spiritual because I am definitely NOT that at all. Because my second thought was, “I wonder when the garbage truck runs this week?” So, people, this is the way my mind works. It is a flibbertigibbit thought process that makes sense to no one but me.

Something occurred to me this morning…I don’t have to get up early and go eat Christmas breakfast with my mom. I no longer visit on holidays or any other day, for that matter. That thought filled me with both sadness and joy. Sadness because I can’t see Mom, but joy knowing she is having one heck of a Christmas celebration with Dad. If they do indeed celebrate Christmas in heaven, I imagine the words “Light Of The World” shining so brightly, it blinds the cherubim. Or seraphim. Take your pick. If they don’t celebrate Christmas in heaven, then perhaps it’s more like Hanukkah, eight nights of non-stop rejoicing over menorah and Messiah. Either way, the joy is EPIC. But, then again, will we need these memorials when Messiah is standing right in front of us? I don’t know, but I do know this: I am not going to be guilty of ceasing to celebrate the birth, the death, and the resurrection of Jesus Christ. I’m not in heaven yet, so I only need concern myself with how am I responding to His grace while I’m in this earthly body. Heaven will take care of itself.

So I got a little sidetracked there for a second. I didn’t anticipate this Christmas looking like this. I knew perhaps Mom wouldn’t be here, and I thought I’d prepared myself, but how can one truly prepare for that? The routine was something I never thought I’d miss, but now that it’s gone, I find myself at loose ends. I find myself missing the assisted living facility, a place that took excellent care of my mother. I miss Moms smile when I came to see her. I miss holding her hand. I miss trying to make her laugh. I miss Mom.

Ok, to be fair, there are a few things I don’t miss…I don’t miss the heavy feeling on the days my mother did not know who I was. I don’t miss seeing her twisted little body, atrophied from lack of muscle tone. I don’t miss her inability to communicate, nor do I miss her inability to form a coherent sentence. I don’t miss these things. I miss the woman who used to go shopping with me. I miss the mother who I used to call whenever I was sick. I miss her asking me if I needed anything. I miss her saying, “Well, honey,” when I told her something troubling. I miss my real mother—the godly little woman, who wasn’t perfect, but, by George, she loved my sister and I wholeheartedly.

On this blessed Christmas Day, please call your momma. Tell her you love her. If things are strained between the two of you, attempt to make it right, if you can. If you can’t, acknowledge her in your heart as best you can as the person who gave you life. And move on. If things are wonderful between the two of you, tell her you love her. Hug her neck and be thankful if she’s still here on this earth. I don’t wish my Mom was still here, sick and confined to a hospital bed, but I DO wish she was healthy and whole, of sound mind and body, sitting on the couch with me now. Trixie would be jumping all over her, and Mom would be giving me some good advice on how to handle life. The reality, though, is that she’s NOT sitting here, but I am comforted knowing she’s sitting at the feet of Jesus. And she IS whole in body, mind and spirit. And for that, I’m eternally grateful. I will see both her and Dad again. It is enough.

Merry Christmas, everyone! Be joyful and blessed today. Jesus is born and Jesus is risen!