I’ve always loved the Christmas season. As a child growing up in a family of 13, I treasured the time we spent together for the holiday. We did cleaning and shopping and decorating, all together; there was a constant crowd and constant activity! Dad would find a huge tree (usually over 12 feet tall) and we would decorate it on Christmas Eve. Then, we would join our church community at a packed midnight service celebrating the birth of Jesus in solemn, yet joyful, worship. Afterwards, we would host an early morning breakfast and fall into bed, only to rise at the crack of dawn to exchange gifts and laugh and sing carols again, all together. Family played a big part in celebrating Christmas for me.
Things have changed, however. While I still celebrate Jesus’ birth with a mixture of joy and wonder, I am sharply reminded of who is missing. I lost my father a few years ago in the midst of a very stressful season at work. The following year, just as I began to regain a sense of normalcy, I lost my eldest brother very unexpectedly. Then last fall, as the trees lost their leaves and the sun seemed
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