Surprised / Finding Our Way / P.S.
I know how to celebrate Christmas in crisis but in calm? I’m still figuring that one out.
Surprised, I Was
By two things, really, and both from you.
The first was many of you saying hello for Christmas. This little space has knit us together and you’re reading from all over the globe. Others stopped by on Facebook and left a note; it made me just plain grateful for you and the way God has made your path cross with mine.
The second was people adding paid subscriptions. It may seem just a small amount, but it is huge support that allows me to continue writing. And some of you even chose the Loyal Supporter option. Thank you.
Looking into 2021, paid subscribers will receive weekly issues while free content will include 1-2 emails a month. I’m also coming up with some special ways to show subscribers my appreciation for supporting this little space.
Finding Our Way
Evie just kissed the cat on her head on her way outside to make the first snowman of the season. “Mazol tov,” she said, patting the cat with a laugh, then slammed the front door behind her, carrot in hand.
This season of Christmas has been wonderful for us the Dedert home, tucked away on a little quiet sidestreet in Grand Rapids and this new snow seems like icing on the cake. But isn’t it true that this season always brings a mix of thoughts?
We remember Christ’s birth and also unconsciously weigh all that’s happened in our life — what’s missing and what’s present, regrets and hopes, the good things and the things we don’t speak of.
For the first time in a decade, we’ve had months of stability with Calvin’s health. I know how to celebrate Christmas in crisis but in calm? I’m still figuring that one out.
The day after Christmas we left for a friend’s house. Calvin stayed back with a nurse; the noise in the van was happy and chaotic as the kids chatted while balancing plates of food on their laps. And often it just feels wrong. Wrong for me to be enjoying life, wrong for us to go places where Calvin can’t go, wrong for us to carry on with life.
Are we calloused? Is this healthy? Are we leaving Calvin behind?
Now that Calvin is on a ventilator, he’s far more stable. Family trips have been impossible for many years, but without looming hospital stays and with excellent nurses to manage his care, we are able to leave for short periods.
This weekend Darryl is preaching away, and we (me + the other four kids) are going along. We’re all looking forward to it, but at the same time, I feel a certain level of awful about leaving Calvin behind.
Because things are not as they should be. And is it right to time away while Calvin stays at home getting treatments and resting and carrying on the best he can? It feels calloused, even if it is healthy, for us to go away.
And don’t we all have that? Shouldering circumstances, not as we’d wish them to be, day by day. How do we live in a way that rightly acknowledges what’s been lost while not losing sight of the many good things we have?
It was good to spend a few hours in my friend’s cozy kitchen (how I’ve missed this in COVID). As we snacked on a delicious charcuterie spread, she told me about her grandpa’s progressive dementia and how the family was managing through it all.
Her grandma is a spunky woman who’s loved her husband for over half a century and lived through WW2. Now she’s living with a husband who scarcely knows the people that have filled his life and confides a running commentary about them, to her. She said, “You can either laugh about it or cry, so if you can laugh, you should. There is enough misery in the world.”
She’s simply picking up what is here and now and doing the best she can with it. Humor and all. I’m sure there are enough nights the sorrow is heavy.
How to hold sorrow and joy together. That is the question. And live well. Not to wallow or be paralyzed on the one hand, yet not to be calloused and shallow on the other.
Paul writes about being “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” (2 Cor. 6:10). I think this means we can trade in a facade of happiness for the real thing - hope in Christ and the joy that gives that makes us strong and resilient when the going is tough.
I’m sure I’ll be wrestling with a dose of sadness as we take off from the airport without Calvin, even as I smile with happiness watching Violet experience her first flight. I will try to not text the nurses too often and instead just relax with Darryl sans discussions of who’s doing what for the evening medical care.
We’re learning how to live when we’re not in crisis. How to be at peace with joy even when so much of life has fallen apart. And what a gift that as we feel our stumbling about, God is working an eternal weight of glory, strong and sure in Christ through all of our ups and downs.
P.S.
~On New Years’ (Friday) I’ll be sharing my favorite book that I reread at the beginning of every year. It’s short and powerful. And I’ll send a wallpaper with a quote for your phone/laptop backgrounds; I think you’ll like it.
~Heard around the Dedert house: Violet received a $20 bill from her grandma and grandpa for her birthday. She ran downstairs to tell Darryl in his study, and as she climbed back up the stairs I heard her emphatically pronounce: “I am LIVin’ the life.”
Curious about the book you read at the beginning of each year. Always looking for book suggestions 😊