A Different Kind Of Holiday

I love the holidays. I love the crisp, cool air of autumn that welcomes Halloween. I love the sense of community and belonging that Thanksgiving brings even when I’m 2,000 miles away from family. I love the magic of Christmas with its sparkling decor and festive music. Yeah, I’m one of those annoying people who really, really tries to hold back decorating and listening to Christmas music as long as possible… and makes it till about November 2nd. On a good year.

But not this year.

I checked into a partial hospitalization program on Halloween, I was in there for Thanksgiving, and I got out exactly two weeks before Christmas. When I got home, I honestly didn’t even want to put the Christmas tree up.

My start to the holiday season wasn’t ideal, but my brothers had it worse. My younger brother spent Thanksgiving in jail and he’s now awaiting trial. My older brother is currently spending Christmas in jail, also awaiting trial. So. We’re all doing great.

Current Mood

I knew my life wouldn’t magically fall in line when I got home from The Center. They very much prepared us for the fact that “life keeps on life-ing.” But I kind of just wanted to take a pass on the rest of the holidays and check back in mid-January after the majority of the world already gave up on their New Year’s resolutions and resumed their normal life. I wanted to skip the uncomfortable conversations with friends, family, and co-workers about being back home. I wanted to fast forward to a time when people won’t walk on eggshells around me, waiting for me to snap.

However, that’s not how life works. We don’t get passes, we get opportunities to fully participate. Even in the pain and uncomfortableness.

I summoned some DBT skills I learned at The Center and practiced Opposite Action (deliberately doing the opposite of what your emotion urge is telling you). So, instead of hibernating until after the holidays, I pulled out our tiny little fake tree. I hung our stockings. I lined our windows with Christmas lights. I even put on my Christmas Classics playlist and lit a Snow Covered Pine Tree candle. I practiced the DBT skill of Participating, which is pretty much exactly what it sounds like – living life in this present moment and fully participating in whatever activity you are currently doing. You’re not ruminating on the past or worrying about the future.

Somewhere between decorating the tree and pulling the second batch of Christmas cookies out of the oven, I started to feel a little lighter. I was well on my way towards Radical Acceptance (reducing your suffering by accepting every aspect of your current reality). There’s nothing I can do about my brothers’ situation. There’s nothing I can do about missing out on a majority of the holiday season. All I can do is be here now.

My playlist was still going strong in the background, and my favorite Christmas Hymn started playing, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” Unlike other popular songs of the season, this one is set in a minor key. The music in and of itself is haunting and powerful. Coupled with the lyrics and the name, “Emmanuel,” or, “God with us,” this song perfectly captures the hope of Christ and desperation of this life.

Sometimes this concept is referred to as the “already, not yet.” We already have hope because it is promised to us in scripture. God is with us. His promises are already fulfilled simply because He spoke them into existence. And yet we still wait to see those promises come to fruition. We wait for the restoration we’ll only find when Christ comes again. We wait for deliverance from all kinds of trials. We wait for relief from suffering, and if not relief, then growth.

The “already, not yet” concept actually reminds me of the DBT classes I took while at The Center. DBT stands for Dialectical Behavioral Therapy. A dialectic is a synthesis or integration of opposites. One key dialectic in DBT is acceptance and change. Only when we can accept where we’re at in this moment can we begin to seek meaningful and effective change.

Jesus came down and met us where we’re at. He met us in our mess. You, me, and all of humanity. He came into our pain and gave us hope. He accepts us where we’re at and loves us enough to provide a healing change.

I’m holding both joy and sorrow this season. Hope and pain. Healing and suffering.

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

Hebrews 11:1
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