No day but today

This morning, Facebook took it upon itself to remind me of a blog post I wrote two years ago today. It was a post about Advent, and Mary, and choosing to be still when the world swirls in chaos.

In other words, still oddly appropriate for today. The more things change, the more they stay the same- as they say.

More than that though, two other smaller details, unrelated to the words of the blog post itself, jumped out at me.

First, my sweet friend Annie had left a comment on the post. Annie was also someone who loved to write and always expressed herself beautifully. Two years later, Annie is no longer physically with us in this world.

Second, looking at the date of the post, I realized I wrote those words one week before my world would be upended in ways I could have never imagined. Talk about chaos and disruption and confusion and grief.

Two years later and two of my favorite people in the world, two people who were the best of friends to one another and so many others, are gone. With us, but not with us.

Sigh.

I know....I know...A bit gloomy for this first Sunday of Advent.

I'm known for my love of Christmas music, the happy endings of Hallmark Christmas movies, my abiding love for Santa, and more often than not a childlike glee of Christmas that rivals Buddy the Elf.

That's all true.

But, like so, so many others (and everyone eventually), I've known some sad Christmas seasons. In fact, there is still a lot of heaviness to this one.

That's when I am grateful for Advent and the real Christmas story. Because while it's a joyful story, it isn't really a happy one.

It's pretty dark. It's a little scary. It contains more than a few confusing elements. And in the end what it asks most of you is simply faith.

Or not so simply.

There are many ways to live out one's faith. For me, continuing to love Christmas in the face of sadness is one of mine. It is my way of saying to death, You cannot have this. You are not powerful enough to make me lose this, too. 

Tracy and Annie were full of light. Literally bursting with it. To choose light is to choose them. If they are to be found, and felt, it will never be in darkness.

Which is why even when darkness descends, which it does from time to time, I always know I can't stay there long. I might rest there for a moment. It can feel like a relief sometimes to just let the despair rise and take cover in the blackness. But it won't take long and their spark will start to flicker from somewhere, telling me it's time to come back.

Come back into the light.

Live.

I saw Rent this past week, which was one of Tracy's favorite Broadway musicals. I hadn't seen it in years so seeing it now, on the other side of this loss, was a wildly different experience.

When I had said I wanted to go to the show, it felt like maybe it was a strange choice to see during the Christmas season. Having just seen Holiday Inn the week prior, it was an odd juxtaposition.

Really though, it was pretty much the perfect contrast.

Holiday Inn- the happy, giddy, bubbly side of Christmas. Rent- the dark, melancholy side of Christmas. Yet in both stories there is the reminder that what we have is each other. We are here to love each other, celebrate with each other, help each other, and hope that there is a happy ending somewhere down the line.

I believe there will be.

I believe in the Light.

How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?
How about love?