How to Help This Holiday Season
It's a relatively happy week in my house. There are homemade cookies on the counter, Christmas music thrumming in the background.
Of course, we are also a household much like yours - one child is "so bored" and another is sniffling, but, on the balance, this feels like a steady year.
Especially compared to some past seasons - like last year, where Luke (my husband) was recovering from a second leg surgery. And I'm grateful.
But, even as I sit down to type, I'm reminded that not everyone is having a stable, abundant Christmas.
A colleague's mother died this Sunday.
A favorite college professor died over the weekend (his daughter is the same age as mine).
My great-Aunt is in hospice care.
A friend is driving his children to Cincinatti Children's Hospital - heavy with uncertainty.
The gestures that matter
My daughter, Mercy Joan, died in February. By the time we got to the first Christmas after her death, almost 10 months had passed. Which is a long time and a short one, all at once.
We weren't magically back to some sort of normal - our hearts were limping into the holidays. But my two small, living children still yearned for a happy Christmas.
My mom and a friend drove down from Indianapolis - they brought a tree and lights and decorations - borrowed cheer in a hard and heavy year where joy felt far away.
Decorating for me in a year where I was decimated is just one gesture amongst many that helped me survive, stabilize, and thrive in the aftermath of a great sadness.
And many people forget the pain of medium-term loss, when so many of those early-supporters drop off.
What can you do?
First, take a moment to consider the people in your life - and what they've been through this year.
Deep disappointment
Job loss
Divorce
Relationship transitions
The death of a much-loved pet
Infertility
Sickness
Funerals
Is there someone that comes to mind? Take a moment - send a text, mail a card, give them a call.
Here is some language to borrow.
"I'm thinking of you - I know this year is hard."
"I'm remembering ____________, she always (share a memory here)"
"I'm holding a part of this sadness with you"
"Gosh, I know this isn't the year you would have chosen - I see a lot of strength in you"
Consider a meaningful gesture:
Do they need a companion, someone to sit by them while they watch that favorite Christmas movie?
Or an invitation to your table, so they won't mark the first Christmas alone?
Someone to take their car to get detailed/an oil change?
Maybe your gift is organizational - you can set up that CaringBridge site or coordinate the hospital shifts.
Perhaps a DoorDash gift certificate or an old-fashioned meal delivery, because you still need to eat, even when your world is falling apart?
We weren't meant to walk alone - your care matters.
And it doesn't have to be perfect - presence over perfection, every time!
