Tis the Season for missing your Goer. Let me tell you a little story . . .
Last week, my husband, Brent, and I visited a local tree farm we had frequented when our children were young. We intended to gather up the local kids and grandkids to go with us, but the time was inconvenient for them, so we went by ourselves. When we arrived, we found the tree-portion of the farm was already closed (it was December 6!). Disappointed and feeling late to the game, we wandered into a large barn where the young employee told us their Christmas tree inventory was low, and they were trying to spare some for next year. He attempted to quell our sadness by showing us the variety of cut trees they had for sale. Would we like to choose from those? This was not the experience we had remembered or hoped for, but we acquiesced and chose a massive thirteen-foot tree.
In the past, the fun part of the whole experience had been the actual hunt–the weaving and wandering through the Christmas tree forest to find just the right one. After locating it, we would saw through the trunk, listen for the crash, and then, working together, load the tree into the truck. After driving back to the beautifully decorated cashier’s building, we would take photos by a life-sized Santa figure, listen to Christmas music, and enjoy hot apple cider and cookies. It was always a memorable time.
This year, we didn’t have our family with us. We didn’t get to hunt. We didn’t get a saw. We didn’t hear a crash. We did go to the cashier’s building, however, where there was hot cider. There were also a half dozen cookies on a paper plate. And Santa was still in the corner, but he looked old and forlorn. The formerly cheery shop was dark and not Christmassy. I don’t even think they were playing Christmas music. After we paid for the tree, drank some hot cider in styrofoam cups, and ate some of the fake oreos, we made our way out of the lot. As we drove away, I sadly thought of all of the times we had cut trees with all of our children. In fact, I almost cried because the whole situation was so pitiful.
When we got the tree home, though, and set it up together (with a fifteen-foot extension ladder) in the living room of our new house with the vaulted ceilings, what had been such a sad series of events actually turned out really lovely, and we made new Christmas memories with just the two of us. As we strung the lights and hung the garland, we didn’t fight or criticize about placement or choice of decorations, and we rewarded our efforts by going out for supper at our favorite Mexican restaurant.
Sometimes as an empty-nester, and especially an empty-nester with a Goer on the other side of the world, I can feel sorry for myself. Though all the kids will be home for a Christmas celebration together this year (!!), the build up before the holidays sometimes feels sad when I prepare for it alone, especially when I compare it with my “former life.” But here is what I learned from our tree farm fail; instead of bemoaning the fact that my life–and my dreams of having all my kids and grandkids close by–is different now, I need to look for the good and celebrate the blessings of what I have been given. I need to thank God for all the happy holiday memories I cherish. I need to create new patterns to usher in new joy. I have to lift my eyes from myself and my now-less-familiar life and look up for the wonder God has placed all around.
When I focus on my sometimes-disappointing circumstances, my life feels lacking. But when I choose the same attitudes Paul encouraged in the Philippians (4:8), when I think on whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, and whatever is admirable, I see how incredible it is that Jesus became a baby so he could become our Savior–the same Savior our Goer kids are sharing with people who don’t know him. I can praise God for Christmas and use it as a time to learn to think more like him.
No, I wasn’t able to cut the perfect tree this year, but I got to have a tree. No, my family wasn’t around to join in on the longstanding tradition. But my husband was, and we created new memories together. The cashier’s shop was depressing, but the Mexican food was delightful, and the meal together gave us time to laugh about our dashed expectations. It’s amazing what happens when you choose to be grateful instead of grumpy.
As parents of Goers, we can all get in a place of sadness and self-centeredness. Our expectations of how life should look can make us unable to see how life does look in all its newness and loveliness. How can you change your gaze and look for the good God has given you today?
Enjoy this Christmas with your loved ones, even if some of the most precious are far away.
Praying for you,
TORI
Parents of Goers 