Kiss Your Miracle

I know it’s December, but so far this year I haven’t felt very Christmasy. To me, the holidays are all about celebrating the gift of Jesus with family, and now that my dad is gone, my family feels very different. In a sense, this should be a very special Christmas; because Jesus came to earth, I have the assurance that one day I’ll get to see my dad again in heaven. But even though I believe that with all my heart, I still feel sad when I think about the holidays. There won’t be any more Christmases here with my dad, and sometimes eternity feels very far away.

Over the weekend, Adam and I decided to get a Christmas tree. We debated it for a while. “Is it worth it?” I asked. “Will Sky completely destroy it as soon as we get it up?” I just couldn’t imagine a beautiful, lit-up Christmas tree sitting peacefully in the corner of our living room without her trying to climb up it, or yank off all the lights, or maybe even pull the whole thing down on top of herself. “It’ll be okay,” said Adam, and I thought about how my parents always had little kids in the house and we always had a Christmas tree anyway (though I do remember a few tree-falling incidents). So off we went to pick out a tree, in the pouring Florida rain.

One positive thing about having a high-maintenance child – she doesn’t allow me much time for self-pity. I was too busy forcing her to hold my hand as we walked around the trees to feel sad that I won’t get to be with my mom and siblings in Michigan for this first Christmas without my dad. We grabbed a tree in five minutes flat and got back in the truck before Sky could take off running through the aisles of trees.

Once we got home, Adam pulled out our Christmas boxes and got to work trimming the tree. I sat on the floor with Sky and let her dig through the ornaments. Most of them are very old ornaments that Adam and I made when we were kids in Sunday school. Our moms passed them on to us after our wedding, and they’re almost all battered and falling apart. Sky was fascinated by them. And once we put lights on the tree, she was beside herself with excitement, shrieking and jumping around. She watched me hang a few ornaments and immediately began to imitate me. Sure, she’d pull them off right after putting them on, but Adam and I were still impressed that she was even interested in the decorating part.

I’m starting to realize that one of the best parts about being a parent is the way it forces you to get over yourself. You can still spend time moping around, convincing yourself that everything is miserable. But not as much time. Little kids have a way of pushing you forward, making you laugh, and reminding you that no, not everything is miserable. Some things are still okay. Some things are actually wonderful. Jesus came to earth with the promise of something more, and nothing, not even my fickle emotions, can change that.