Maria ByrneI was in a bit of a panic the other day when I realised how close it was to Christmas. While my children love counting how many sleeps until the big celebration, these festive countdowns make me break out in a cold sweat.
Christmas expectations and the pressures to please everyone seem to banish any hope of Advent being a period of tranquil preparation. Whether it’s ticking off every name on the presents’ list, moving the elf on the shelf or stressing over the Christmas cooking, the lead up to the feast seems to involve a lot of frenetic activity.
This year is very different to other years as my father died last March which means that I’ve now lost both my parents, the two people who were the key figures in so many of my Christmases.
While racing round the shops and listening to the jangly Christmas tunes, there’s an underlying feeling of sadness and loss.
It might well up when doing something as mundane as buying a seasonal jumper and thinking of how a shirt, a jumper or pyjamas were always safe bets as presents for my father. I’ve also shed silent tears when passing by the mothers’ and fathers’ Christmas cards with their loving, sentimental messages.
As well as the sad loss of my father, a lot of the past year was spent battling cancer with months of chemotherapy and radiation. Having the treatment behind me and facing into Christmas awakens all sorts of emotions with past regrets and future fears being revisited.
When my father was alive, no matter what was going on or what festivities were planned, Christmas Day had to involve a trip to my childhood home.
There was never a Christmas Day that my father wasn’t part of, and if my children ever seemed even slightly reluctant to leave their toys, games and Christmas televiewing, I reminded them that their grandfather was getting older and that any Christmas might be his last one. Now, I apply the same reminder to myself.
Anyone who’s had a brush with cancer will understand how it makes you keenly aware of your mortality.
Family times like Christmas accentuate this feeling of the passing of time and comparisons with Christmases gone by with hopes for Christmases yet to come.
Circumstances
I’m not the only one who’s had a tough year, who’s suffered ill health or lost a loved one. Circumstances are not always kind to us. How do we prepare for Christmas even when life didn’t go exactly as we planned or when we feel overwhelmed by the sadness or difficulties we face?
There’s been a lot of talk recently about mindfulness and learning to live in the moment. I have to admit that, before I was diagnosed with cancer, I didn’t view it as something that would be particularly helpful. To me, life was often about planning ahead, worrying about some vague future concerns. Or else, it was a trip down memory lane focusing on what I could have done better.
I follow a Facebook page with the unusual name ‘100 Perks of Having Cancer plus 100 Health Tips for Surviving It’.
Recently I spotted a post on it about mindfulness and it made a lot of sense. It boldly stated “You are the cause of about 90% of your own mental anguish and suffering!”
While it seems like a sweeping statement, when it was explained, I could see the writer’s thinking. She runs group therapy sessions and part of her approach is to ask the members of the group to look around them. She then poses a few questions: “Are you safe? Are you comfortable? Is there anything happening to you right at this moment that is causing you mental anguish?”
The vast majority of people will answer “no” to that question, but the fact is that the present moment is often good. What causes us worry and pain in the lead up to Christmas, or at any time of the year is our inclination to replay past negative experiences or to fret about future catastrophes that might never happen. Looking to the past may lead us to feel depressed.
Worrying about the future causes anxiety. It’s only by focusing on the present that we find true peace.
The Irish Catholic Bishops’ Conference has a wonderful resource on its website that I’ve been using with my husband and children.
The online Advent Calendar is a great help in guiding families though this time of spiritual preparation. On days when we’re frazzled with all the secular demands around Christmas or feeling a bit melancholy and sad, we are directed back to the true meaning of Christmas through music, prayer and a Thought for the Day.
Darkness
The reflection on Day 3 was by Fr Michael Drumm from the Diocese of Elphin. He spoke of the darkness as we near the shortest day of the year and how, in the midst of this mid-winter darkness, Christians always celebrated the birth of Christ.
Whatever darkness we are shrouded in, the light of Christ can shine. The great prayer cry of Advent, said Fr Drumm, is the great cry of the early Christians: “Come Lord Jesus!”
No matter what happened during our year, Advent is the time to wait in hope for the coming of Christ into our world. He will help us and lighten our load when we don’t have the strength to help ourselves.