Happy New Year???

Never have I started a new year so discouraged. We just finished a wonderful Christmas season. I got to see all but one of my kids gathered together. We had some wonderful experiences and made some wonderful memories. We started the month with a trip to Knott’s Berry Farm. We visited family, attended parties, experienced the fun of an escape room, kept old traditions alive and made news ones. We wrapped up the year with a trip to the mountains for some family time and snow play… and, of course, Stephen’s birthday and New Year’s Eve celebrations with friends.

Why, then, do I feel so glum? Well, in the midst of the fun and joy, there are always present the intense heartache of broken relationships, and the stress of financial and time pressures. There is the ever-present and crushing to-do list that only seems to grow longer and much heavier when ignored (like it has been during December). There is the ever-growing list of things broken, or on their last leg, that need replacing; and you know there is not enough money to fund all of them. There is the pain of a child who has estranged herself from us. Who, though she was actually IN TOWN on my birthday 2.5 weeks ago, chose to have zero contact with us, and refused to respond to us when we reached out. That hurts. The pain of discovering that a long-estranged relative of my husband died, months ago, before any reconciliation could be made with the family. The sadness of watching those close to me suffer disappointment and heartache in their lives and relationships. The little bit of death that happens when kids criticize our parenting. Because we know our failings all too well. We know our regrets. We see, in hindsight, what we should have done differently. But, those who criticize can’t know that we truly tried to do the best we could with the circumstances we had. How can you know to withhold judgment until you’ve walked a mile in the other guy’s shoes? That comes with experience, and after being judged. Worse still, are the unspoken judgments. The ones only expressed with eyes of disgust. And then there are the hurtful things said by one family member to another. Things said in jest with a side of truth. Things that are said in all earnest and intended to hurt. And it’s not just the kids that do this. Sometimes it’s me. And then I hate myself.

My life is not what I imagined it would be ten years ago. It’s much less like the beautiful, idealistic Norman Rockwell paintings that I adore, and more like the scrambled Picassos that I don’t care for at all.

How does one come to accept the ugly reality that is their actual life? How does one survive the pain of rejection and broken relationships? How does one not grieve what should have been? Or what I perceive that other families have, that I do not possess? Harmony, peace, happy, joyful relationships.

I haven’t figured it all out yet. I still feel raw. And I cry at random times.

But, this I know: None of this pain and dysfunction takes God by surprise. He knew from before time began that, not just my family, but all of humanity would be a train wreck. Dysfunctional at the core. And he sent Jesus to earth to save us all from sin. From ourselves.

This is a comfort. It doesn’t take the pain away. But it puts it in perspective for me and gives me an anchor when the waves of pain come hard and fast. He and he alone is unchanging. He and he alone is my rock, my fortress, my deliverer.

He is my hope. And for this reason, I can go on.