Tis the season.

     It is Christmas eve. The day before the big day. The day when people are running around for those last minute gifts, starting on preparations for the holiday meal with family and friends, anticipating the joyful gatherings, and than there are those who aren't.

     Each holiday season, there are people who are not in the spirit. They dread this time of year for numerous reasons. Maybe from a childhood memory of something not so great. Maybe because they have lost someone who meant so much to them, and maybe, just maybe, they don't like Christmas because its a holiday they have to work year in and year out.

     Whatever the reason, there are those who wait with anticipation for this holiday to just be done. No more music, lights, trees, and merry Christmas. They just want to go back to the way life was before the holidays.  They dread and maybe even hate this time of year. There are just as many reasons they dread it, as there are reasons people love it. No matter the reason, its their truth.

     The first year after my daddy died, I dreaded the holidays, and with Christmas being the worst. My dad loved Christmas. He loved being together with family, enjoying the meal, but his favorite part was seeing all the kids open their gifts. It was what made him smile from ear to ear.

     My dad was always a very generous man. He would help anyone in need. Even while he was going through chemo, he would spend those hours hooked up to the medicine, sharing Jesus with people. He would talk to them like nothing was even wrong. He would tell jokes, and help them to smile.

     My dad hated to see people sad, and didn't like when family would fight with each other. Some of his last words to me were, "please don't let this family fall apart. Do what you can to hold all of you together."  Poor daddy would be so saddened by what our family has become. He would just be heart broken to know that we no longer speak to each other and the thought of doing Christmas together, well that's an impossible one. Dad of course would disagree. He would say that God could make it happen. Just trust in Him.

     He loved the Lord and knew that Christ's birth was the true reason for the season and he wanted others to know that kind of joy. He loved sharing Christ with others so that they to could have the joy and hope he had. My dad even shared his faith with others at the treatment center while he was going through chemo that last year of his life. He would ask, "Do you know where your going? Do you know Jesus." He never let go of his faith, and even at the end, he was so excited to see Jesus.

      On the first Christmas after he passed, I knew that life was forever changed. Because of the conflict when daddy passed, I would not be with my side of the family this first year. There would be no one I could talk to about the deep loss we were all feeling. You know, only someone who has known a person as you have, could truly understand the loss you are feeling. Now I'm not saying my hubby didn't understand or wasn't there, it is just different than what you share as siblings when it comes to memories.

     So with dread, and what felt like a dead heart, I trudged through the first Christmas with a, "fake it until you make it," smile plastered to my face. I said all the right things, and participated in all the Christmas merry making, all the while feeling dead inside and so false.  I was happy my children and grandchildren where there and that they were enjoying the season, and I loved being around my other family, it was just difficult and unless you have been through this, you wouldn't understand what I am saying.

     So the first one passed and I kept telling myself, next year will be better. It was a little better, but there was still that sadness. It crept in when I wasn't looking, and I would find myself sad again, crying in the shower, or while I was wrapping gifts. This has repeated itself each year, but with each year there is a little less pain. Don't get me wrong, it still has a sting and the longing you feel for the way things used to be, I don't think every really goes away, but like a long worn favorite pair of jeans, it fades slightly with each passing year.

     This year I face the holiday once again. It is not as bad this year, but still there. I miss my dad and my family so very much, but you see, some families never recover from the loss of a loved one. Some split up and never talk again. They all go their separate ways.  Its like as if when the patriarch or matriarch passes, there isn't that same glue to hold the family together.  The once giant, joyous gatherings are a thing of the past.

     Life from that point on is changed. People loose touch, family doesn't talk, and life grows farther apart. The sadness from the loss begins to grow until the chasm between family seems unbridgeable. But it isn't. That distance is not the be all end all. Its just distance. Just like the distance you have when traveling for vacation. Its long, and it will take time to get there, but you do it because you know you will enjoy it.

     Its that same with family. You are traveling a distance, bridging the gap, making amends, and finding the joy of the season again. That chasm can be bridged, that broken can be mended, that family tie can be retied. This year, why not reach out again? Make a leap and try to mend the differences that split you up. Say your sorry if that's what it takes. Extend the olive branch. Reach out to that long lost family member.

     Think about what that loved one would want, or what they would say about how things are now. What would they want you to do? Would they want the anger, the hurt, the grudges, or would they want the peace, the love and the closeness. Go ahead, what do you have to loose? Try to mend that relationship. Its a season of miracles, a season of giving, and a season of receiving. After all, "Tis the Season."

A strong woman!!!

     I always write about inspirational things. Things to help lift others up. To inspire them to hold onto hope. To know that there are better days coming. But what happens when you don't feel that? When no matter what others tell you, you tell yourself, you feel hopeless, worn out, and just plain tired?

     I know I have a choice. I decide how I want my actions or feelings to be. I can give in, give up, or keep going. I can stay where I am at in that feeling, or I can choose to move past it. It really is up to me. 

     Well I'm going to tell you today that whatever you are feeling, its okay to feel that. We have been told to suppress certain feelings, emotions, or thoughts. Told that its all going to be okay, and things will get better, but guess what? Sometimes they don't. Sometimes we have to go through something for a long while. It lasts much longer than we expected, wanted, or needed. Or so we think.

     Mine right now is struggling with loss this year. I lost my dear, sweet Aunt Sharon in the beginning of this year. Lost a part of myself in April when I had to have surgery. Lost my mobility when my knee decided to go bad this summer. Lost a dear friend in October. Loss of what I thought would be my, Rest of my life job." The deepest loss came in November. The loss of our beautiful, faithful, lovable fur baby Zuni.

     Now don't you think that I deserve to cry? To sit down and say I can't do this anymore. I don't want to do this anymore. Well I did let me tell you. I cried, I ranted, I was angry, sad, confused and darn right rebellious. I was mad at everything and everyone. My poor husband took the brunt of all of this, but what's new? He usually does.

     I called my mom up last week and cried all the way home from work with her. I was super upset about a lot of things. I told her I do not think I can continue doing what I am doing. You know what she told me???? She said, " listen here sister. We come from a long line of strong women. Women who went through hardships you and I will never experience. Hardships like the great depression, the loss of parents, dropping out of school to work to help support their siblings, and raising children, grandchildren, and helping others all on their own."  

     She went on to say, " I never saw my mom cry about what she had to do, or the things she lost, or the things she never got to do. She just got up everyday and did what needed to be done."  She said, "grandma had to help raise her siblings which meant she didn't get to be a child. My sisters helped raise me so they had to grow up fast. You helped me with raising your sister and brother so that I could work three jobs to support you guys and give you the things you wanted and needed."  

     She told me how she knows that there were tears. They just weren't done publicly and no one really knew about it.  She reminded me of the divorces, single parenting, health issues, and the list goes on, that these women in my life had endured. My tears began to slow, and I realized that she was right. 

     My grandmother, my mom's mom, put herself through nursing school while raising her children alone. She had to quit school when she was younger in order to work and help her father to raise her siblings because her mother had died of dust pneumonia when she was little. She worked 2 jobs and went to school to become a nurse. Once a nurse, she worked nights because she made more. She also took care of my sister and I and my cousins at different times.

     My aunt Sandy raised her son, moved away to California, battled cancer and survived, moved across country to marry the man she loved, and works with hospice as a volunteer, as well as being an amazing Sentsy consultant. 

     My aunt Sharon married my uncle Bob, moved wherever his military career took him, including some countries we would never think of living in now, and raised all of her children and adopted another to raise, as well as all of the other wonderful things she did. 

     My aunt Phyllis was a strong women who raised her children, worked hard, and was a very strong and independent woman. 

     My mom raised us when she could, worked hard, gave us more than most kids had because we had horses, we were in 4H, rodeo, and had a nice home. She taught me how to keep a clean house, be compassionate towards those less fortunate than us, and to always be kind.

     My aunt Jeannie taught me how to be a good mother, wife, and daughter. She helped build and run a business with my uncle Doug, started her own business in daycare, raised 5 beautiful, strong, amazing, independent, accomplished women as well as taking me on as a 6th daughter. 

     My aunt Mary who poured into my life the love of God. My faith and strength are due to her loving guidance. She showed me how to be a lady, have respect, and to love myself.

     My Grandma Harper, who was also a nurse. She taught me that love is for a lifetime, how to be a good mother, wife, and grandmother. How to love, be compassionate, be caring, and most importantly, how to forgive. 

     So to wrap this up, my mom in that conversation reminded me that these women all faced their own trials. Things that no one else will ever know. They faced adversity, cruelty, grief, hardship, and things that most people would have thrown the towel in for. They did it and did not complain. Their tears were hidden, most likely in their pillows, or in the shower, or like me, in the car as they drove. 

     Tears do not mean we are weak, they mean we are strong, compassionate, passionate, faithful, caring, loving, and very capable women. So today I want to encourage you if only a little bit. Those little things, big things, seemingly insurmountable things, are just that. Things. They will pass, we will endure, come out stronger on the other side and realize, we are a STRONG WOMAN!!! Be strong, be fierce, love, laugh, and be happy, sad, mad, or whatever you need to do you!