My Grown Up Christmas Wish

I thought I’d given up Christmas wishes a long time ago; stored them in the attic with my old dolls, toys, and other things I’d outgrown.  This season something has changed for me; the ironic thing about experiencing great loss is that inevitably, somehow, you end up gaining something.  Sometimes you gain strength, strength you never knew you had because it was never put to a difficult enough test.  Other times you gain people, people who end up supporting you and becoming the beams of steel that hold your life up from the caverns that lay below.  You may gain a relationship with God even though you are angry with Him for taking so much away from you, you cling to the belief that His actions have purpose.  Whatever you gain from loss, it’s as real as the spirit of Christmas in the eyes of a child.

And so this year I dusted off the mementos of a childhood past and decided it was time to accept the fact that inside of us all, lies the heart and dreams of a child that survived the battle of growing old.  My grown up Christmas wish is not for myself but for all of you.  For those that have a heavy heart, a heart that contemplates and questions, for you I wish peace of mind; accepting what is, is half the journey to learning what may be.  For those that have lost faith, faith in their God or in themselves, I wish for you the courage to leap into the unknown and have both faith that you’ve done the right thing, and faith that someone will be on the other side to catch you.  For those that have hate in their heart, for you I wish peace and a willingness to forgive and the ability to accept forgiveness.  For those of you that love too much, I wish for you to remember that loving yourself must come first.  For those that have lost, those that grieve, those who are much like myself; for you I wish chance – chances to remember and not be afraid, chances to take a step forward without looking back, chances to heal when it’s time, and chances to be forgiven to those that have taken from you. 

As the snow falls outside my window my memories of my father are stronger than most days; the countless Christmas Eve’s we spent laying in front of our fireplace until I could no longer keep my eyes open and my dad swearing he heard reindeer hooves on the rooftop which worked wonders at getting me into bed aid in those memories.  I miss him with every fiber of my being and although I wish he were here I do know that he’s watching over me whispering lightly in my ear to never stop making Christmas wishes.  Grown up or not, we all need a little Christmas magic.

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