Is it ok to be sad at Christmas?

Inevitably at some point during the celebrations each year we'd take a few minutes to remember those who are feeling sad at Christmas; particularly those in broken families or the bereaved. Anyone on their own at Christmas was always welcome a place at our table.

Many are facing tragedy even in the last day or so, like the Glasgow incident, or have lived through the unimaginable slaughter of their children in Pakistan or abduction in Nigeria. We have no idea but God weeps with them.

For me, the run up to Christmas this year has been full of well-intentioned people - friends, neighbours, aunts and a solicitor - reminding me with sympathetic head tilts, that this Christmas is "going to be difficult and painful one". Well fair enough, it will be tinged with sadness as it’s my first Christmas without my parents - both of whom have now died of cancer in their late 50s. The house feels lonely and the family halved.

But you don’t have to look to the stories in the headlines or too far or deep to see others in pain. All around us are people trying to mask depression, anxiety, stress, sadness or loneliness with a fake smile, santa hat or Christmas glitter. What is it about ‘Christmas cheer’ that makes us feel under obligation to go through this? Is it ok to acknowledge sadness at Christmas? I think so. But the good news is that the story doesn’t stop here.

We know that life is not a perfect picture postcard, that the Bethlehem scene where all seems idyllic is not quite the truth – a stress birth, a manky stable, threat of death from Herod etc.  Jesus foreknew that his death was going to be a very painful thing and that he would face opposition from every side. Knowing he and others would face great pain didn’t mean he walked away. He embraced it, knowing that through the greatest pain comes the greatest forgiveness, love and indeed the hope of the whole world.

So, I’m not going to pretend that all is jolly just because Mariah, the Queen or a Christmas film is on and the tinsel is up. I know that true joy is only found in Emmanuel, God with us as a human, and it is available freely. Jesus came to a world in pain and into the mess of humanity and meets us in it. He truly feels our pain and will bring us true comfort and joy. The true wonder of Christmas.

What now?

Reminding myself of my choices

So we’ve just come back from the latest oncology consultation with some disappointing news. At one point when we were looking at spikes in levels and new white patches on the scans, Dr S joked that no matter what was said, mum would still smile.

Later on, reflecting on my shock, I began reading back through some of my blog posts, 2010-2012, when these kind of consultations were more commonplace for us. Most of the time mum’s appointments had been an opportunity to stun the doctors with the fact that a. she was still alive and b. she could walk – a good three years of stability passed the original prognosis.

In one post Consultant day - living on prayer (Mar 2012), I reflected on the fear you have to fight in the waiting room wondering whether this is the moment the stability ends. That week, even though the results were ok, I was challenged to trust Jesus with the future and surrender my hopes and fears afresh. I am now in desperate need to remind myself of this challenge and embrace it again!

I am reminding myself again that no matter how tempting it is to batten down the hatches in the storm or shut myself off from others, lifting my head and looking outwards puts things in perspective and enables me to continue living life and being grateful for what we have.

I remember that we should only ask ourselves “what now?” not “why?”. I remember that when first processing the terminal prognosis of both my parents I announced that I don’t want to end up bitter or holding on to my wounds. So how will I respond now? When the cares of life are overwhelming and my heart is sinking down will I fix my eyes on the hope of glory, on the one who can provide me peace beyond understanding?

God doesn’t reveal his plans beforehand and mostly we have no clue at his purposes but he does reveal himself to us and draw alongside us.

I also wrote this after my dad died: “My biggest fear now is that we won’t have my mum for long BUT I know I have to be grateful for the time I have her and really value her in my life. I will try to keep walking the tightrope of balance between believing God fully for a miracle and keeping asking but also acknowledging inevitable feelings.”

So, we continue to live on prayer and know that we have a God who is always faithful regardless of whether we understand what He is up to or not.

I pray that, whatever you are facing, you will be able to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ. Eph 3:18.

We shall rise

A crackly 1980s recording of my favourite voice in the world, accompanied by his guitar, sings: “We shall rise, we shall rise….on that resurrection morning, we shall rise. Death has lost its sting for us, death has lost its sting for us, death has lost its sting forevermore” Such appropriate truth.  This was a recording of my dad, played at his own dad’s funeral a few months ago. 

I should have thought better than to arrive at the Norfolk hospital alone back in October. The thought that I might need backup entered my head at one point but I convinced myself that I was now so familiar with hospitals that it would not be a problem.  I’m not shocked by anything anymore am I?!

Well. I didn’t expect my Granddad, (my Dad’s dad as mentioned in previous posts) at the grand age of 96, to be in fine nick but he was dramatically altered and struggled to communicate. 

Perching on the side of his bed and holding his frail hand, I desperately tried to let him know that he didn’t need to fear or panic. As well as the family similarities in their look, the looks and the gasps of momentary confusion and panic were such a painful reminder of later days with my Dad.

I pressed on through and we talked about each member of the family and how they were doing and all he could keep saying was ‘I’m so lucky to have such a lovely family’.

Apart from the question of whether I had enough money or had yet found a boyfriend, which made me smile because he’d never normally asked such things, I assured him we were all grateful to him for providing us with such a rich spiritual legacy. 

I had been in that same ward and situation 2 years ago, and he had bounced back so many times, but this time felt different.  I just knew this was the last time I would visit him. I almost didn’t want to say bye. When he said “I’ll leave you to go to sleep now” I knew there wasn’t much point dragging it out any longer. 

Praying out loud that Jesus would be very present in perfect peace and that he would be assured of his saviour, he heard, nodded and gave a big thumbs up.  Aware that the tears were streaming down my face and surrounding visitors were pretending not to look or to overhear religious words, I didn’t mind. 

So why am I sharing this? Don’t we all have stories of family members dying? And yes he was of age. 

But it was Gogglebox (C4 Friday nights) the other day when they spoke about being afraid of death that made me think back on these events.  Then there was good old Dot Branning on Eastenders yesterday wondering whether her son Nick had ever accepted Jesus and if she could have done more to help him understand the gospel. It was actually a very moving and realistic prayer. 

Have my Dad and Granddad been defeated by death? I don't believe so at all. Not when Jesus is involved.  

Those song words reveal to me an amazing truth on a deep level. How can someone claim that death has no power over them even though it is as inevitable, devastating as it is? For someone who puts their trust in Jesus, life forever with God is on offer.  How do you feel about that?

What a laugh!

At one point on Saturday night I could almost see and hear my Dad in absolute hysterics, his infectious laughter came to my mind so strongly it was as if he was right there. I could hear his tremendously quick-witted puns playing out in my head, even though I struggled to formulate mine to share.

This family of friends are people that we have always enjoyed laughing with and have shared friendship through years of ups and downs belonging to each one of us. They knew my dad as the pun king. There have been one or two show-stoppers from dad that Tim Vine and Milton Jones (our faves) would struggle to top!

At one point we were discussing death. Mum was being real about her feelings but the atmosphere was light, hopeful and immediately we were laughing at last requests. Steve wants a hearse on a bicycle, everyone cycling behind and the chuckle brothers with the coffin...'to me, to you'.  When talking about the fastor pastor with a hearse on his motorcycle sidecar we got: 'eat my dust to dust'

'To Russ', we said spontaneously and naturally when thinking of just how many times over the last 3 years we have said: 'Russ would have made a pun out of that' or 'there's a Russ-joke '

George Bernard Shaw said: "Life does not cease to be funny when someone dies any more than it ceases to be serious when someone laughs."

It is important and liberating to be able to laugh, even when life deals you tough circumstances. Many would think it insensitive or bizarre to laugh through a time of tears but for me it has been a key part of my grief over the last few years. It's incredibly freeing to cry and smile together, inspired by a good memory, a funny experience or a whopper of a well-delivered line.

Thinking back, I know this laughter is nothing new. Even in those horrendous moments when facing Dad's decline alongside mum's illness, the comedy was not far away. Dad always called mum Mrs Malaprop as she is indeed awesome at giving us a giggle when she gets the latest words mixed up. But even among the strongest sadness and pain I remember joking about buy-one-get-one-free funerals and double wheelchairs.

Anyone who has been through grief, severe disappointment or hardship will know that humour can rear its head during the strangest of times. Some would say that it is nature's way of giving us a perspective on a situation and allowing us to rise above it.

I believe that God has an awesome sense of humour, inspires ours and loves laughter. Humour gives balance when life throws us a curve ball. Don’t ever feel guilty for laughing or smiling even if you or loved ones are going through a tough time – God knows your motives.

While in any kind of bereavement or disappointment it may take a bit of time to get back to the belly laughs,  you can still get lost in something funny or smile and chuckle at a memory, joke or situation.  Those moments provide respite and help us lift our perspective to see that life goes on and there is still good in it, regardless.


While the natural reaction might be tears and sadness, and that is important to express, I feel that allowing yourself opportunities to be thankful, laugh, or embrace a spontaneously moment of laughter, helps you heal too. 



Job 8:21

He will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy.

Distant Dads

You know what it's like, a few months before a big day and Hallmark starts raking it in - 'Get this for your valentine' or 'are you ready for Fathers' day?' Is it just me or does it seem to get more intense every year?

Prompted by the ads, I asked myself if I was ready for fathers' day. I was convinced if I tackled it head on by keeping busy and avoiding too much time reading facebook daddy devotions, then I could get through the day no problem. I should have remembered that these kind of days mean emotions are unpredictable no matter what. And that's ok.

Whatever big day the card shops and TV ads are promoting, there will always be people for whom the celebration highlights painful memories, a sense of loss, or stirs resentment because of a broken relationship.

I am so grateful and honoured to have had a wonderful father. While I miss him like mad, today I had a tangible burden for those who have not experienced the qualities of a good father or have a relationship with a Dad figure.

I was saddened to read this week that by the end of childhood, a British child is much more likely to have a TV in their bedroom than a father in their home. The Centre of Social Justice report says that 50 per cent of 15-year-olds no longer live with both their parents, with a million UK children growing up without a father.

It is totally awesome, and of course right, to honour and give thanks for our loved ones on special occasions. At the same time let us be mindful of those who are emotionally delicate and also remember that we don't have to wait till the 'anointed' day to show our affection.

It's no surprise, that negative experiences with father figures can mean many find it extremely challenging to relate to God as their father. Jennie Pollock wrote this week on this subject saying: "It can be tempting, when dealing with such a sensitive issue, simply to veer around it. There is so much to discover about God, perhaps it would be easiest to just avoid mentions of His fatherhood and focus on other wonderful aspects of His character"

"The Fatherhood of God is not just an extra, but a core aspect of His identity. He is a father who is never distant, He is interested in your every achievement and concerned about your every hurt. He will never let you down."

Having a fresh revelation of my Father God's love makes me remember just what a life-changing impact knowing Him has. The God who made the universe desires such an intimate relationship with us. Wow.

Song words that I love: "Oh father of the fatherless, to whom all families are blessed, I love the way you father me. Before such love I stand amazed and ever will through all my days, I love the way you father me. Father me, forever you will father me and in your embrace I will be forever secure. I love the way you father me."

Isn't that just too morbid?

To mark Dying Matters Awareness week I have decided to re-post a blog post that I wrote this time 2 years ago....

As I grew up our family seemed more open about death than others and there was even a list on the notice board for each of them - requests for their funerals. Occasionally people express shock and I think some think it morbid for morbidity's sake. But we know there are important reasons for this - so that those surviving would be confident, informed and peaceful about the decisions for the funeral and to be truthful and open about our own mortality. Knowing what matters most to them and the legacy they would like to leave is really helpful.

Plenty of people are uncomfortable thinking or talking about death or even spending time with a grieving person maybe because of fear, because they feel it's unnaturally morbid or it makes them feel vulnerable. Obviously this subject - more than most - touches on our vulnerability.

Dying Matters produced these findings: "Although the majority of us think talking about death is less of a taboo than it was 20 years ago, two-thirds of us say we are not at ease discussing it, according to the survey.Only 16% of us have discussed with loved ones where we would like to die, only 18% of us have talked about the type of care and support we want at the end of our lives, and very few of us have discussed whether we have made a will or the type of funeral we want. It also revealed that most of us have used euphemisms as a way of avoiding using the words “death” and “dying”. The most commonly used being 'passed away' and 'deceased'."

A spokeswoman from Dying Matters said: "Although someone in Britain dies every minute, our research has found that many people do all they can to avoid talking about dying. Unless we talk openly about dying and death we won’t be able to get the care and support we want, where we want it at the end of our lives.”

I have to say I agree there seems to still be a taboo about death and some people talk about it as little as they possibly can - or are constantly treading on egg shells. However, the healing and grieving process and acceptance often start through talking about these deep experiences and feeling free to cry a lot.  Why would there be so many bereavement counsellors if this were not the case?  I know everyone is different but certainly for me talking about it at the appropriate times really helps.

This weekend I spent time with my Grandad (93) who is recovering in hospital after a severe fall. Being so elderly these things are not always free from complications. We had a really special time even though we all missed my Dad. I knew it wouldn't be long before Mum asked Grandad about his favourite hymns.

I think, through my experiences so far, I have become more matter-of-fact about these things - I know my mother has! I always joke that she should set up funeral consulting - but seriously - she is great at asking people (often the elder among us) whether they have written their will or funeral requests down. Hand in hand with this is her even greater openness to discussing God with friends.

At the visit Grandad was perky and gracious just like Dad. The way he spoke about the hospital was so similar and they were concerned about similar issues. He went to great lengths to emphasise that all the good stuff in his life was "God doing it - not me at all." The whole time concerned about everyone else being ok and providing for his family - exactly the same.

In a life threatening situation or serious illness - we have a need to convey our truest and deepest feelings to them before they die - how much we love and value them. Sadly not everyone gets that opportunity - that is a reason to appreciate people in your life and not take them for granted.

We shouldn't be afraid of death- I know this isn't easy because so much is tied up with it like pain and sadness. But take an opportunity to think about what you think happens when we die. If you know Jesus and have the secure hope and confidence of new life after, death has no ultimate sting - despite very painful earthly grief. 

My dream is to live my life to the full, unafraid and trusting, with open hands and pointing to Jesus all the way. This may take more than a lifetime to achieve - but I am always a work in progress.

2 Corinthians 4:18 (New International Version)
18 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Pain on Mothers' day?

- This post is from my blog archive and written last year. Thought it appropriate to republish in solidarity with friends who find this day tough. - 

Mothers day, like Fathers Day and other commercially marked days, can be incredibly hard for so many people - whether they have become estranged, have struggles, are grieving the loss of their mum or child, or have an unfulfilled longing for motherhood.

The pain that person is feeling is unique to them and made up of many factors that others will not always appreciate. Plus we are all complex characters. The frustration that no one else can fully understand their depth of pain is fair, in a way, because it's true - at least humanly - especially if our family situation is different. I guess this is why so many struggle about what to say to someone in difficult circumstances - whether they are going through redundancy, a break up or bereaved.

This morning at church we sang an oldie which my Dad would have championed in his day.  Crown him with many Crowns.  As I sang through the motions of the familiar tune, I wondered whether many would know what those old fashioned words mean in our modern context. Then these words jumped out of me:

"The Son of Man...Who every grief hath known that wrings the human breast,
And takes and bears them for His own, that all in Him may rest."

Well what does that mean? Jesus, as a man, experienced every suffering that humans can experience and understands grief, pain, anger and the sadness that we may struggle with.  On the cross He beared them and took them onto himself. Jesus offers rest, peace and comfort.

Jesus understands. He gets it when no one else does! He has been there done that and bought the T shirt. He will carry you.