A lament for the season; the loss of the dream and no hope for a Christmas miracle. This is what’s on my mind as I head for Mass. As I feared I have run into three snow storms. I kept going and made it to my first stop, a rest area near Rochester, New York. My thoughts are sad but not a tearful sadness, more of numbness, a sense of loss. Something is missing from my heart.
Everyone loves stories of Christmas miracles. We watch all these Christmas movies that leave us feeling renewed with the joy that comes from the miracle of restoration, of what Jesus does in the heart by restoring hope, joy, peace and relationships. I could sit for hours watching those cheesy Christmas movies on the Hallmark Channel.
I would watch those movies every year from the time I was a young woman with tears in my heart hoping secretly for my own Christmas miracle. I became especially anxious for my Christmas miracle after of death of my parents when I was in my mid 20’s. I was an orphan or was I. You see I had not seen my father since 1964 and for so many Christmases I would dream he would find me and tell me he had never forgotten me. He would introduce me to my brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles. Decades later I never gave up this dream, until this year.
I have no desire to watch any Christmas movies this year, and perhaps never again. I really am an orphan now.