The Reason for the Season

It’s almost four years now since Leah died and I still struggle with going on a shopping trip on my own. Whenever possible I shop online or wait until one of my children (or my husband) is available to accompany me. However there are some occasions when I do have to go shopping alone. I try to keep these shopping trips as brief as possible.

In years gone by I loved shopping and my shopping trips often lasted for several hours, but it is definitely now something that I do very much out of necessity rather than for pleasure. Today was one of those days when I headed out alone to get a few bits and pieces. Life has been busier than usual lately, so my youngest and I haven’t had time recently to go on one of our regular joint shopping trips.

As soon as I entered Foyleside Shopping Centre I was immediately drawn to the beautiful sound of children singing. I instinctively moved in the direction of this sound until a choir of Primary School children sweetly singing Christmas songs came into my line of vision. This young choir was surrounded by other shoppers who had stopped to listen and by adoring parents capturing the moment on camera.

In an instant I was transported back to when I was that proud parent and Leah was a young girl in her Primary School choir. Leah loved to sing. Tears blurred my vision as my heart ached with longing to once again hear the sweet voice that every Christmas echoed throughout our house with the words of one of Leah’s favourite Christmas songs:

IT’S SOMEBODY’S BIRTHDAY

by Ian White

Crackers and turkeys and pudding and cream,
Toys in the window that I’ve never seen.
This is the Christmas that everyone sees,
But Christmas means more to me.

Chorus
It’s somebody’s birthday I won’t forget,
As I open the things that I get.
I’ll remember the inn and the stable so bare,
And Jesus who once lay there.
~
Everyone’s out shopping late every night,
For candles and presents and Christmas tree lights
This is the Christmas that everyone sees,
But Christmas means more to me.
~
Christmas morning, the start of the day,
There’s presents to open and new games to play.
This is the Christmas that everyone sees,
But Christmas means more to me.

My visit to Foyleside was brought to a swift ending – thirty minutes after I had parked my car I was back in it and driving away. Grief changes everything.

On the 1st of December I came across this set of 25 downloadable notecards by Ann Voskamp, extracted from her popular book The Greatest Gift. There’s one for every day this month, up to and including Christmas Day.

Ann Voskamp is also the author of the bestseller One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are which spent sixty weeks on the New York Times Bestseller’s List. I write about my experience of reading ‘One Thousand Gifts’ here.

When I looked at Ann’s daily notecards for Advent and read them, I decided that I would like to share one each day on my Facebook page and Twitter feed.

I’m not sure if any month of the year is particularly easy since Leah died, but December, with its extra emphasis on communal happiness and family togetherness, is especially difficult.

This year, December brings with it the second anniversary of Leah’s final hospitalisation on the 27th December and her eighteenth birthday on New Year’s Eve.

I find that these little thoughts for Advent by Ann Voskamp are just enough to catch my attention and to hold in my head – they are neither too long nor too short. They help me to remember that Christmas is Jesus’ birthday – something that meant a great deal to Leah. Read this blog to find out more about one of her favourite Christmas songs.

I was shopping today – something that I’ve consistently struggled with since Leah died, as she loved shopping so much and was my frequent companion on shopping trips.

I was shopping in Belfast, the place where Leah and I spent so much time together while attending hospital appointments. Today, when I bought something to put on her grave on her 18th birthday, my tears started to fall once again.

However as I sobbed quietly, I told myself that this wouldn’t be the day when I would lose myself in sadness. I let the tears fall as I walked with my head bowed through the hordes of Christmas shoppers.

I remembered something of what I had read much earlier today. As I walked I gave thanks for the lives of each one of our four children – including the one whose life was cut short, the one who was only given to us on loan.

I prayed and talked quietly to God in my heart and I felt His comfort.