Alone, Together
I cried only one time this past week, at our church’s Christmas Eve service: my church community is so beautiful, the service so lovely. But also, I saw around me full families sitting together, young adults home for the holidays, grandparents with kids sitting on their laps. And I cried because for the first time ever, my sons weren’t in Oregon for Christmas, nor were their grandparents, who have moved 2000 miles away to a retirement community near where my sister lives.
Ron and I were alone together on Christmas this year. We’d seen our grandkids in Seattle the weekend before, which was wonderful. On Christmas day, it was just us: Ben is deployed; Sam had to work in Denver. My sons’ flourishing means that they couldn’t be home, and while I love watching them grow up, I hate how empty our home feels without them.
On Christmas Day, Ron and I enjoyed a quiet morning before heading to the airport, with plans to fly to Chicago, meet Sam there, and together head east, to Goshen and extended family. At the airport, we discovered our flight had been cancelled, as had many other Southwest flights, leading to long lines, lost baggage, and plenty of heartbroken people. We waited in line for three hours, and then back home on the phone for six more, until we got through at 1 a.m. and rebooked tickets for next week.
Southwest Airlines is apparently going through some things, and even today cancelled 70 percent of their flights. Judging from social media posts, I’m not entirely sure they’ll be operational when we plan to fly on Sunday. And we have it better than most Southwest travelers, stuck in airports without a way home, paying astronomical costs for hotel rooms and alternative routes, their belongings circling in some distant baggage claim carousal.
Like so many other people this weekend, we stood in crowded airports (masked, because Covid is still a thing), most of us wanting to be somewhere with people we love.
And while we waited patiently (sort of), I thought about my son, celebrating Christmas by himself, but also with 6000 sailors in the Mediterranean. About my youngest child, by himself in Denver, facilitating the celebrations of others who come to the restaurant where he works. About so many other people, truly alone this holiday season, because of circumstances far beyond their control, like an airline that spectacularly falls apart or a million other reasons.
We are all waiting alone and together for love to be manifest, finding a way to our aching, lonely hearts. This is, no doubt, a lesson about the true meaning of Christmas.
Right now, though, I just want to see my sons.
You can pre-order Finding Our Way Forward: When The Children We Love Become Adults from your local bookstore; from a corporate book seller; or directly from Herald Press. You can also read more at Publisher’s Weekly, which featured my book. Those who pre-order will receive a small gift from me, plus be entered in a drawing for a slightly larger gift. More information on this soon!